


and like the stars we burn away the miles

by thispapermoon



Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017), The Worst Witch - All Media Types
Genre: (1) useful lesbian (dimity drill), 1890s - 1940s, Double Hubble Trouble, F/F, Flashbacks, Found Family, Friends to Lovers, Hades and Persephone AU, Healing, Hicsqueak, Hicsqueak backstory, HubbleStar, Hurt/Comfort, Misunderstandings, Mystery, Slow Burn, Two witches in love, WWII AU, dimity drill - lesbian sage, dimity drill - wonderful little shit, just kiss already?, things dimity gets called in the comments of this fic:
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-09-25 11:58:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 81,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17120933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thispapermoon/pseuds/thispapermoon
Summary: The Birchwick Home for Orphan Girls, 1896Living in a squalid, impoverished orphanage, all Hecate and Pippa have are each other. They practice magic together in secret, and promise each other that someday they will have a better future.Cackle’s Academy, 1940Keen to do her bit for the war effort, Ada Cackle takes in an evacuated Mildred Hubble despite protests from her Deputy Head.When Cackle's falls under attack, the school is forced to seek refuge within the walls of Nightstyx's Hall, a long abandoned school for witches with a shadowy past. But Hecate knows the secret of Nightstyx's, and  holds a secret of her own about it's dark connection with the notorious (and notoriously missing) Pippa Pentangle.But Pippa Pentangle is about to resurface.And when she does, Hecate Hardbroom’s whole life will go to Hell.Persephone/Hades/WWII AU mashup…….ish.





	1. Chapter I: No Ordinary Girl

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE: rewrote the summary upon completion!!! :)
> 
> Well, it's been a while...
> 
> Hi! I started writing three separate stories and, as most of my fics happen, they all became pushed together into one giant....situation. I'm really excited about this fic. It's long - 50K+ so far - and I'm still wrapping up the end chapters. It's been a journey writing something that has so much plot, but it's also been super enjoyable to get to spend time with these characters again. I'll post the first chapters fairly quickly as I edit them, and I'm hoping to finish the fic overall before the end of the year.
> 
> Anyway, thank you for everyone who has continued to leave comments on my old stuff. They've been getting me through 15+ hour hellish work days and motivating me to keep writing whenever I have time. Thank you for lifting my spirits up. :)
> 
> Oh, also, I'm not a historian. I'm just a gal doin' her best.

**Cackle’s Academy, 1940**

The inkwell rattles against the wood of her desk as yet another RAF plane lumbers its way through the airspace overhead, but Hecate Hardbroom is too absorbed by _The Witching Times_ to pay it much mind. She hardly hears the planes now. Has long stopped wondering why it is that she can hear them at all. Even she hasn’t the patience to fret over why the magic wards that cloak the castle from the troubles of the outside world - the ones that ought to keep such noises out - have grown thin and worn these days. Doesn’t take the time to wonder.

Not when the very whole of the world has grown so thin and worn itself.

Leaning closer to the page she reads the daily list of names from the last round of bombings in London, followed by a new and troubling list names from a factory town not too far from the castle. None are familiar, but she turns each name over in her mind all the same, carefully and slowly; a final farewell to each stranger, each life that has been reduced to the stamp of dark ink on translucent parchment.

Returning to the front page she frowns again over the disconcerting reports from the continent. Whispers of unimaginable horrors. A dark, reprehensible evil growing. The inkwell stills on her desk and she sighs, nearly jumps as the low drone above is replaced with a tapping on her door.

Blinking, she reorders the unease deep within her stomach before bidding entrance to her chambers, relaxing only slightly when Ada appears within the frame. Even the pink of her typically jolly cardigan seems subdued when paired with the concern that clouds her features and Hecate straightens, glad for something to do with her mind and her magic, and summons forth a tea service.

Twice used leaves in hot water. No lemon. No cream. No sugar.

Ada claims the chair across the desk, settles wearily and and takes the offered cup.

“We’re witches, Hecate. Rationing is one thing, but we needn't be so literal when we could simply conjure up a bit of sugar.”

Hecate shakes her head, sipping from her teacup and grimacing at the weakness of the tea within. “Not when so many are going without. It wouldn’t be decent.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Ada sighs. “As usual. Well, at least it’s warm.” She closes her eyes and Hecate is struck by just how tired she looks.

“The girls - how are they this morning?”

Ada hums a bit into her tea and blinks her eyes back open. “As well as can be expected after the way that factory went up the other night. Some are still having nightmares. Can’t get the smell of smoke out of their uniforms, even with magic. And Alice Truespring was pulled out of Cackle’s by her aunt last night. Dreadful what happened to her mother in London last month. Aunt’s from up north, I suppose she believes Miss Truestring will be safer further out in the country than anywhere near an industry town.”

Ada’s eyes come to rest on the paper on Hecate’s desk and she sighs again. “However, I’ve received a number of letters and parents still believe Cackle’s is the safest place for the girls. It’s either here or go home only to be evacuated to who knows where.”

“And at least they’ll continue to learn here.” Hecate squares her shoulders. “Ada, we must to everything  we can to keep them safe. We must prepare them, strengthen their skills so they are ready, no matter what is to come.” She leans forward and studies Ada until Ada blinks and tears her eyes away from the paper and up to met her own.

“You were looking for her name again, weren’t you?”

Hecate stiffens, fingers twitching against her teacup. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Pippa Pentangle. Every day since she disappeared all those years ago you’ve read the paper front to back hoping she’ll be in there. Now you read to make sure that she’s not.”

Rearing back in her seat Hecate snaps her fingers and the paper vanishes. “I do no such thing.”

“Hecate -”

“I have no doubt that Pippa Pentangle grew tired of her tabloid fame and ran off with some wealthy recluse. And no doubt she is, at this very moment, taking tea in the comfort of some country home. With real sugar, mind you.”

Hecate sniffs and sets her teacup down with what she hopes is finality.

“Now then, the girls, Ada. We must consider the approaching winter and tightening of rations.  Magic isn’t enough to keep their stomachs full but at least it’s enough to keep them warm. Miss Tapioca is struggling with the Victory Garden and I fear we might have an infestation of Blight Sprites. I’d like to take my fourth year girls out there and -”

There’s a rapid banging at the door a frantic voice cries out,  “Miss Hardbroom? Miss Hardbroom!”

Rising abruptly, she twists her fingers until the door swings open. “Maud Spellbody. What in Merlin’s name is the cause for such an undignified racket?”

Ada rises as well and gestures Maud in and towards the chair but the girl hangs back, her curls bouncing in agitation as she shakes her head.

“It’s visitors. Downstairs.”

“Visitors?” Ada glances at her and she arches a brow back in question. “We hadn’t planned on anyone - “

Maud looks half frightened, half thrilled. “They’re Non-Magical. I think.”

 _“What?”_ Hecate feels the word release in a hiss and Ada stumbled backwards in surprise with a faint echo of “Non-Magical?”

“I think so. They have a - well - I think it’s a - a - _motor car_.” Maud bites her lip, shrinking a bit under Hecate’s glower until she rounds on Ada.

“Certainly our wards cannot have weakened so much as to let The _Ordinary_ stumble onto the grounds - ?”

“Surely not. But, Hecate, Ordinary People. Here - at Cackle’s? It shouldn’t be possible. What ever could it mean?”

“It means we shall have to find out.” Hecate raises her hand to transfer them but Ada’s hand grips her arm, holding her back.

“Best not. If they ended up here by mistake, perhaps we needn’t let them know we’re magical.”

“Yes. Quite right.” Ada releases her and starts towards the door and Hecate grimaces as she follows her out.

They toil down several spiral staircases and corridors until Maud leads them out a doorway off the main entrance to the seldom used porte cochere where a battered motor car is parked beneath the ornate archway.

Late autumn has left its mark on the landscape and the wind scatters dry leaves across the limestone of their path, buffeting them until they crowd up in the damp corners of the arches and swirl around the well-worn boots of a girl with long auburn hair.

A girl who stares at them as they approach, excitedly clutching at what must be her mother with one hand while pointing with the other.  

“Mum, look!”

“It’s not nice to point, Mildred, Love. Best give them a proper greeting.” The woman shakes her curls from her eyes and steps forward. “Hello there, Julie Hubble. And this is my girl, Mildred Hubble.” She holds out a hand which Hecate and Ada stare at.

Maud giggles.

“Met well - er, well - hello?” Ada, distractedly touches her forehead, her eyes sliding helplessly over to Hecate, while Julie’s proffered hand hangs in the air for a moment before dropping.

Hecate sniffs.

“Ms Hubble. We are not accustomed to unannounced visitors. I do not know _how_ , I don’t know _why_ you have come. We are an exclusive school for girls and make a point to protect the privacy of our pupils. We do not tolerate trespassing.” Her tone is icy and the woman - Julie - shrugs a bit, wrapping an arm around the thin shoulders of her daughter.

“Sounds we’ve found Saint Helen’s then, Mildred. Though I had no idea it was housed in a castle. Reputable private school, not spooky ruins, sorry, Love.”

The girl leans into her and smiles. “It’s alright, Mum. At least we know now. We can get back to the main road. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make any trouble.”

A look passes over Julie’s face before she smiles brightly down at her daughter, but Hecate knows a front when she sees one. Apparently so does Ada because she steps forward and cautiously imitates Julie, offering her hand until Julie curiously takes it.

“Ada Cackle, Headmistress of, erm, _Saint Helen’s_. I apologize for my Deputy Head, your presence here has caught us rather off guard. We really don’t get many visitors up this way. May I inquire as to how you located us?”

Julie grips Ada’s hand firmly before releasing it with a sunny smile. “Didn’t. It was all my Mildred. Was working in the factory over yonder til we were displaced by the bombs, see. Millie was always looking out the window drawing a castle on this very hill when she should have been studying her maths. Thought it was all in her imagination, I did. Wasn’t a castle up here far as I could tell. ‘Til we were on the road just now and she says she saw a sign for it, begged me to turn off and let her see it in person before we head North for good.”

Mildred grins. “It’s even better up close, Mum. I’m glad we stopped.”

Ada shoots Hecate a look and turns her face away to mutter, “I do believe we forgot to remove the sign at the crossing after we allowed the Annual Centaur Convention to be hosted on our grounds last summer.”

Hecate tries not to roll her eyes. “So it would seem.”

Maud steps forward and bobs a Well Met at Mildred. “My name’s Maud. Maud Spellbody. What are you going North for? What’s driving in a car like?”

Mildred looks bemused but smiles at Maud all the same. “Mum got a job at another factory - haven’t you ever ridden in a car before?”

Curls akimbo, Maud shades her head, brow furrowing. “Aren’t you afraid of that one getting bombed too?” She looks agitated and Hecate recalls shooing the girl away from the windows on the night of the blitz, recalls Maud’s pale, terrified face and her jerky, shellshocked movements as Hecate had marched her back to bed.

“We’ll be alright. We always are. So long as we’re together.” Mildred bites her lip but laces her fingers through her mother’s, swinging their joined hands back and forth and looking up at her.

Julie smiles down at her but the look from before clouds her eyes. “‘Course we will, Love.”

Maud still looks unconvinced and turns to Hecate. “Why can’t Mildred stay here? It would be safer, wouldn’t it?”

“ _Here?_ ” The words stick in Hecate’s throat and she looks askance at the girl before her. “Certainly not.”

Beside her Ada perks up. “Now, now, I don’t think we should be hastily, Hecate.” She lays a hand on Hecate’s arm and studies Mildred. “The girl did find her way here, after all.”

They share a look, a silent argument, but Julie interrupts. “That’s very kind of you. Though factory work pays best, it’s not enough for an exclusive private girls school, I’m afraid.”

“But we’re not a fee paying school,” Maud interjects, looking hopefully up at Ada. “She could stay here, couldn’t she? Lots of children are being evacuated, we could do our part. For the war effort.”

Ada stares hard at Mildred for a moment longer and then nods decisively. “What Maud means to say is that _Saint Helen’s_ has a robust scholarship program with a particular grant for girls displaced by the war. Mildred, you are welcome to stay here if you like. We must all come together during such difficult times.”

Hecate internally groans.

Looking from Maud, to Ada and Hecate, and then up at her mother, Mildred smiles a little uncertainty. “It would be a bit of an adventure. Mum?”

Julie’s answer is lost as Hecate leans in an mutters, “Ada. This is no place for an Ordinary Girl and besides, have you quite forgotten that the magical community is sworn to be impartial to the war?”

“You yourself were just speaking of sacrifices that need to be made for the war effort.”

“Rationing is unavoidable. And preparing the girls - that’s simply our duty -”

“It’s only right we do our part where we can.”

“But, Ada, taking in an Ordinary evacuee? It could be dangerous for the girl. We have no idea if she can see the school because our wards are crippled or if she possess magical ability. She’s not from a witching family, that’s for certain. And if The Great Wizard were to find out - ”

“Hush, Hecate. If she _is_ magic, then Cackle’s is the place for her. Regardless, a factory town is no place for a child, you know that.”

Ada turns back to the group and Hecate bites down on her tongue until she takes the tangy taste of blood. When she refocuses, Julie is kneeling before her daughter looking at her very seriously as Mildred gestures earnestly as she speaks.

“I don’t have to, Mum. You know I want to come with you. That’s why I didn’t evacuate with the other children.”

“Yes, but it’s so dangerous, Millie. And I work all the time, I’d hardly be home to see you. It was a miracle I wasn’t on shift the other night when the Jerrys came.” Julie brushes her fingers down Mildred’s long braid and Hecate clenches her jaw to counteract the way her eyes prick without her consent at the small maternal gesture.

“I just want you to be safe. And you’d be safe here. Saint Helen’s has the most marvelous reputation. And after all, I could hardly find this place on my own, let alone on a map, and I’ve lived here half my life -”

“But Mum -” Mildred seems near tears and Julie leans in and rests her forehead against her daughter’s.

“I know. I know.”

They hug each other tightly. “You’ve always been drawn to this place. Hard to know why. But they’d be lucky to have you. Just as I am. It’s a good school, Love. Take the chance.”

They hug again, longer this time, until Julie finally pulls back and stands. She squeezes Mildred’s hand before crossing to the back of the car and sliding out a suitcase that looks like it has seen better days.

Maud bounces forward to receive it, reaching out a hand to take it -

_“ACHOO!”_

Beatrice Bunch appears from thin air between them.

Julie shrieks and drops the suitcase.

Mildred stares.

“Sorry! So sorry - I f-f-forgot to t-take my - _ACHOO!”_

Beatrice winks out again and Maud groans.

“- her allergy medication.”

“What _was_ that?” Mildred looks awestruck and delighted.

“What kind,” Julie says very slowly, continuing to stare at the spot where Beatrice appeared only to vanish, “of school is this?”

Ada sighs.

“Perhaps you all better come inside and have some tea.”

______

**The Birchwick Home for Orphan Girls, 1896**

“Make it dance.”

“Like this?”

“Yes. More.”

Hecate curls her fingers.

Shoulder to shoulder, with heads hanging down over the edge of the bed, they both stare up as the small ball of light leaps and twirls around the crease where the top of the peeling wallpaper meets the ceiling.

Hecate smiles as Pippa giggles.

“Now make it wink.”

“Wink?”

“Mmhmmm.” Pippa pokes her fingers into the air next to Hecate’s and the bundle of light begins to flash. “Too fast.” Pippa’s voice sounds strange due to the angle of her head and Hecate rolls her own over to the side to look at her.

“You look funny.”

“So do you.”

“Your face is all red.”

“Is not.”

“Is too.”

“So is yours.”

Pippa pokes out her tongue and Hecate huffs, wiggling her fingers until the blinking slows.

“There, a wink.”

“Wink. Wink”

Hecate doesn’t need to look to know Pippa is winking up at the light.

“Wink, Hecate.”

“I can’t.”

“Pleassse.” Pippa’s head turns as well and she squints one eye closed at her.

Nose wrinkling, Hecate manages a double blink and Pippa laughs again. It turns into a cough and Hecate sits up, fighting the accompanying wave of dizzy, and grabs Pippa by the elbow, hauling her upright to thump her on the back.

“Pippa?”

“S’alright,” Pippa fights for breath, the cough croupy and wet, deep in her chest. “M’alright.”

She’s coughing again, eyes watering, and Hecate grips her elbow more firmly.

“Breath, Pipsqueak.”

“I’m not a pipsqueak,” Pippa manages around the next wave of coughing but Hecate nods approvingly as Pippa takes the bait and slows her breathing.

“You are. You’re smaller than Evie Hammel, she’s only six.”

Pippa gives one final, hacking cough and pouts at her. “Evie sneaks extra dinner rolls. I seen her.”

Hecate pulls a tattered handkerchief from her sleeve and hands it to Pippa. “Josie Shoemaker is nearly as tall as you.”

“I am not _five_ ,” Pippa squeaks, throwing the handkerchief back at Hecate after wiping her face with it and Hecate snickers.

“At least you don’t wet the bed like Josie.”

“Hec-a-teeeee.”

Hecate laughs again and so does Pippa, choking on her congestion which causes her to snort a little. Hecate laughs harder.

 _Hiccup_.

They freeze and Pippa stares at her.

 _Hiccup_.

_Hiccup. Hiccup. Hiccup._

_Hiccup_.

She’s off laughing again, Pippa next to her, bolstered to new heights of amusement with every choked _hiccup_ that darts it’s way between gulps of air.

Pippa coughs and laughs, and Hecate hiccups and laughs, and when the door bangs open to frame a irritable Eloise Wilch, neither of them can seem to stop.

“What are you two goops laughing at.” Eloise’s eyes narrow. “Unauthorized magic?”

Eloise is very suddenly smug and Hecate sobers quickly as Pippa freezes. “I’m going to tell Madam. You’ll really get it this time. You _know_ we’re only allow to do magic during lessons. And you two goops shouldn’t even know light spells yet. Imma tell Madam that, _too_.”

She snaps and the ball of light poofs out as she turns on her heel and sweeps from the room.

“I bet that means no supper tonight.” Pippa deflates and Hecate frowns in worry down at their shoes where their feet hang over the edge of the bed. The bottom sole of her left shoe is peeling away from the uppers, as is the bottom of Pippa’s right. She thinks, vaguely, that if they were one person, they might avoid getting their feet wet the next time it rains.

“I’m sorry, Pipsqueak.” Guilt races through her as she studies their shoes, trying not to cry.

“S’alright, Hecate. I asked you to do the magic.” Pippa nudges her and wraps an arm around her shoulders, her cold nose bumping against her neck. “You’re my favorite magic.”

Hecate tries not to feel the sharp jut of Pippa’s shoulder blades or the rasp of her lungs each time she pulls in a breath. She tries not to think about how dinner is just a lump of cold porridge, or long for it, knowing it’s better than nothing.

“Eloise is such a toad. She thinks because she’s ten she knows everything.”

“I don’t know why Madam made her dorm monitor. She should have picked you.”

Hecate smiles and pats Pippa’s back. “Maybe when I’m ten.”

“When you’re ten we’ll both be adoptomated together and live in a castle.”

“Adopted, Pippa.” Hecate sniffles then hiccups.

“That’s what I said, Hiccup.”

“Sweet Spells.”

“Huh?”

“It’s Sweet Spells, not hiccup. Sweet Spells is what you say when someone hiccups. Or sneezes.”

Pippa tilts her head up and tickles Hecate with one hand. “No. _Hiccup._ ”

Hecate shakes her head. “ _No_. Pipsqueak.”

She squirms out of Pippa’s way but Pippa follows and they’re laughing again.

The door bangs open and Eloise is back looking furious.

And Pippa and Hecate don’t laugh again for a long time after.


	2. Chapter II: A Period of Adjustment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For two weeks there’s nothing but the red-gold leaves, and pale yellow sun, and a sweet silence unbroken by the sky above. Hecate sleeps through the night and later, when she thinks back on it, feels she should have known better than to think it could be any sign of hope for peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Christmas Eve <3

**Cackle’s Academy, 1940**

It takes, in fact, several cups of tea before Julie Hubble is able to keep her jaw from dropping open every time Ada says the word “magic.”

Mildred leans forward in her chair, eagerly hanging onto every word that Maud chatters happily at her, expanding and adding great color to Ada’s explanations whenever she pauses for breath.

For her part, Hecate paces anxiously behind Ada’s chair, prowling like a cat, muttering to Ada at each passing.

_Unsuitable. Dangerous. Ill-advised._

But Ada continues blithely on, clapping her hands when Mildred admits she broke a teacup once, only to return from fetching the dustbin to find it mysteriously whole.

“Trick of the mind,” Hecate growls but Ada waves her away.

“I seems, Mrs. Hubble -”

“Miss Hubble -” Julie lifts her chin as Ada’s eyebrows raise.

“Miss Hubble, it seems your daughter has a penchant for magic - as far as I can tell. She could see through the protective enchantments around the school for one thing. Are you certain that there’s not witches in the Hubble line?”

Julie laughs and then covers her mouth looking for all the world like she must be dreaming. “Sorry, no, none.”

“And the girl’s father?”

Mildred whips her head around and look at her mother and Julie stops laughing abruptly and simply shakes her head.

“Well. As unconventional as all this is -”

Hecate coughs.

“- I can assure you that Cackle’s is as renowned in the witching world as Saint Helga’s”

“- Helen’s.”

“Yes - as Saint _Helen’s_ \- is to those who are Ordinary. Cackle’s is one of the oldest, most esteemed institutions in Britain and not only will Mildred be safe here, but she will learn alongside those who have powers like her own.”

Julie nods but looks apprehensive. “But what if she’s not really - not really a -”

“Mum!”

“Well, I need to be sure they won’t chuck you out again if they’re wrong about this - we haven’t any witches in our family, Millie. You’d be the very first. I wouldn’t know how to do a bit of magic if it poked me in the eye.”

“They were willing to take me before I knew it was a magical school, weren’t they? And you’re plenty magical, Mum. In your own way.”

Julie wraps her arm around Mildred’s shoulders. “Oh, I’ll miss you.”

“I know. I’ll miss you too.” Mildred tilts her head up to look at her mother. “And you needn’t worry as much about money if I’m here. There was that farm that was looking for workers, remember? Can’t you join up with the Women’s Land Army instead? I don’t want you to go to another factory. Please, Mum? Please?”

Brushing the stray hairs out of Mildred’s eyes, Julie Hubble kisses her on the forehead and turns to Ada, eyes very bright. “Factory work has seemed like the only option to keep food on our table. Magic or luck, I can’t say, but I can’t thank you enough for what this means for our family.”

She turns back to Mildred. “I’ll go join up with the WLA. You needn’t worry now, Mildred-Love. Worst that could happen to me there would be being chased by a goat around the farm.”

Mildred laughs and they smile at each other. Hecate’s heart does a weird sort of twitch in her chest and she glowers over Ada’s shoulder at them.

“I believe we should institute a trial basis. Magic can be dangerous, particularly for the under-skilled and undisciplined. Ada, see reason. The girl doesn’t belong here.”

“She doesn’t belong out there either, Hecate. And as for skill and discipline - we are a school, are we not? She’ll learn more of that here than she would out there and you know that.” Ada turns to her and her eyes twinkle. “In fact, I know you’ll make sure of it. What was it you said? ‘We must prepare them? Strengthen their skills so they are ready, no matter what is to come?’”

Ada settles back and pours another cup of tea, the water nearly clear as it swirls around the oversaturated tea leaves. She passes it to Hecate and pats her hand. “And that now includes Mildred Hubble.”

Across the desk Mildred grins and Hecate sighs, tries not to look at the way the leaves have collected in the bottom of her cup. Bones and bombs and something murky and not yet scrutable, caliginous through the steam of her tea.

A sure sign of a darkness that is to come.

______

By the time Julie Hubble bumps away down the road in her battered contraption of a Not Broom, an enchanted mirror in one pocket and a damp handkerchief in the other, the hour has grown late and the sky setting on into dark.

The rumble of students in echoes out into the courtyard into the damp porte cochere where Maud once again stands next to Mildred Hubble, talking a mile a minute about spells and schedules and daily life at Cackle’s. Mildred finally drags her eyes away from the retreating form of her mother’s car and Maud grabs her hand, pulling her back in through the large oak side door and towards the dining hall.

Once they’re gone, Hecate sighs sharply. “I don’t think this is a good idea, Ada.” She peers over at her in the dark and another RAF plane takes up in the distance, its rumble drawing ever closer.

“Nonsense, Hecate.” But she looks skyward, a small frown forming between her eyebrows. “Let’s take a look at those wards tomorrow, shall we?”

With a swift nod of approval, Hecate trails after Ada back into the castle, curling her fingers until the heavy door swings firmly shut behind them, hoping with all her might that it be enough to keep the rest the world out.

In the sky above, the plane drones on.

______

**The Birchwick Home for Orphan Girls, 1897**

“Do you remember your mother?”

Pippa sniffles and shakes her head, burrowing closer to Hecate. “No.”

It’s snowing out and an icy chill has settled on the dorm. The darkness is only broken by the sound of the other girls’ breathing in the rows of beds around them and Hecate pulls the ragged blanket higher up around their shoulders. She can just make out Pippa in the darkness.

“Tell me about yours again,” Pippa whispers. There’s a longing in her voice and Hecate squeezes her eyes shut, trying to remember.

“I remember dark hair. I remember her reading to me. There were pictures.”

“Of what?”

“Plants. Flowers?”

“What kind?”

“Don’t know.”

Pippa pokes at her chest, fingers hitting the metal sphere that lies hidden below Hecate’s shift at night and her threadbare dress during the day. “Tell me about the locket again?”

“It’s a watch. But it doesn’t tick anymore. It’s broken.”

“It was your mother’s?”

“Yes.”

Pippa pulls the watch chain until the case comes free. She cups it between her small hands and brings it to just above her chin, in front her mouth.

“Tick-tock, tick-tock,” she whispers against it, breath puffing warmly from between her hands and Hecate smiles.  “Tick-tock, little clock.” Pippa shifts closer, her eyes drifting shut and Hecate curls more closely around her for warmth.

Outside a church bell cuts through the silent, snow-heavy air and Hecate falls asleep to its deep and steady tolls.

When she wakes the next morning Pippa is back in her own bed.

And Hecate lays still in sleepy wonderment at the strong _tick_ \- _tick_ \- _tick_ against her palm where her mother’s watch lays curled, beating like a warm and steady heartbeat.

______

**Cackle’s Academy, 1940**

All the days seem gray and cold now, and yet it’s difficult for Hecate not to see red whenever Mildred Hubble bumbles her way through a spell or adds tail of newt instead of lizard to a potion. It’s not that the girl is _Ordinary_ as she feared she’d be. It is the precisely the opposite:  raw, untamed power bubbling below the surface of a girl who trips over her shoe-laces and daydreams when she ought to be reading. Who comes to class with a hastily tied sash and bright, eager eyes and one knee sock falling down her skinny leg and - _oh_ \- how it drives Hecate absolutely wild.

With anxiety.

With fear.

For a girl like Mildred Hubble should not be. Not here at Cackle’s. Not in the world; Ordinary or otherwise. A witch from a non-witching family. It simply _should not be_.

She catches Mildred’s wrist as she moves to add Syrup of Slug to her potion rather than Jellyfish Juice. She marks a F in red letters across the girl’s worksheet and Mildred sags. Frowns. Whispers to Maud and when Hecate looks back over Mildred’s cauldron has been cleared and she’s beginning to work from scratch. Tongue between her teeth, forehead knitted in concentration.

It simply should not _be_.

But it is. As many things _are_ these days that should not be.

Reports continue to trickle in from the continent and Hecate’s shoulder blades sit hunched high on her back of late. The air is filled with perpetual tension, bellies hardly filled at all.

That is until one morning when Hecate startles from her seat on the windowsill of her chambers, blinking in the light of the gray dawn. The RAF planes have moved overhead in a steady hum throughout the night and she isn’t sure she really slept. Feels groggy, and achy, and gritty around the eyes. It takes her a moment to catch hold of the magic that woke her, but when she does she rises swiftly and conjures her day clothes into place, transferring to the gate of the castle, heart pounding at the disturbance to the new protections she and Ada have cloaked around the school.

The gate swings open and a boy stands there, scrawny in a uniform that looks made for someone twice his age. He’s clearly playing at dress up and she tries not to roll her eyes at his young idealism as he he stands before her bright-eyed, a nap sac thrown over one shoulder.

“Mornin’” he chirps when he sees her and she frowns in exasperation at all these _Ordinary Folk_ that keep trapsing into her life.

“May I help you?” She keeps her voice cool and uninviting, hoping he will state his business and _leave_ before any more trouble can come of it.

The boy eyes her long black gown.

“Are Ms. Ada, ma’am?”

“I certainly am not.”

The boy looks put out. “Oh. Well. Is there a Ms. Ada here presently? I got something to deliver. Weren’t sure if this were the right place to come, told by a Julie Hubble to follow this path until I came to a gate. Must of been the mist though - didn’t see a thing until I was standing right here. Weirdest thing, ma’am, if you ‘scuse me for saying so.”

“ _Julie Hubble_ , told you how to find us?” She feels hot fear and anger sizzle through her at the nerve - the _presumption_ \- of Miss Hubble spilling their secrets to whatever crowd she happens upon.

He ducks a nod then hefts the sac off his shoulder and offers it out. “Been working with Miss Julie up at Langley Dale Farm ‘for I got my papers. Said I’d drop this by on my way to the front - just come of age this past week.” He puffs out his chest proudly and Hecate draws a sharp breath that this boy - this _child_ \- is already being claimed for the war.

Slowly she reaches out to take the sac and he passes it to her, touching his cap as he turns to leave.

“Wait.”

Her voice is gravely and too loud in the still, misty morning and he turns back, looking at her curiously.

“Your button.” She points, and as she does the button on his uniform melts from the fabric and appears on the ground by his boot. He glances down and touches the hole where it should have been looking dismayed.

“Dash it all! Sorry, ‘suse my language, ma’am. I haven’t got a spare...” Spying the button on the ground he ducks down and retrieves it. “Ah, or a sewing kit.”

“I have.”

She slips a hand into her pocket where a bundled needle and thread has materialized before reaching out to collect the button from him.

“In exchange for the delivery.” She gestures and he startles into action, pulling off the drab army jacket and shivering in his shirtsleeves as she takes it. He’s even scrawnier without the bulk of fabric and she winces, trying to steady her trembling hands enough to thread the needle.

She doesn’t know how to sew. Not really. Never has by hand before. Her stitches are clumsy and untidy but she does her best with it. Does her best with the tiny bit of protective enchantment that the coaxes into the button as she works, too.

It won’t be enough.

But at least it’s something.

She finishes and hands the uniform silently back, picking up the sac as the boy thanks her profusely.

She watches him go, watches him turn at the end of the lane and glance back. He waves once.

And then he is gone.

______

Inside the sac is fresh vegetables. And cheese. And butter. _Real butter._  

A note from Julie Hubble thanking Hecate and Ada for caring for her daughter. A note to Mildred that Hecate delivers and watches as the girl reads it eagerly, half laughing, half tearful over whatever it contains.

She leaves her to it and takes the provisions down to Miss Tapioca as Ada organizes a special breakfast for the girls. _Real butter_ , she hears whispered up and down the corridors as she returns upstairs.

The grey of the day seems lighter and a watery sun peaks through. Her shoulders hunch a little less and she returns to her room to find the daily paper on her desk. Sips tea with the tiniest splash of milk.

Breathes a sigh of relief after she reads the paper cover to cover and doesn’t see the name _Pippa Pentangle_ anywhere at all.

______

Autumn presses on and for a time the only explosions come from Mildred Hubble’s cauldron and the only things that fall flaming from the sky are jewel-bright leaves. They glow as they catch the light and Hecate can’t help but wonder how the earth can still hold such simple beauty when humans pit her flesh with bombs and drag the heavy treads of tanks across her soil.

It’s magic, in a way, she supposes. Though the thought makes her feel rather silly.

The planes are still a constant, the girls still on edge, and the teachers tense but focused. They practice concealment spells and The Camouflage Potion. Miss Drill has the girls on an obstacle course, training them up on agility and quick-thinking when it comes to broomsmanship least the day comes that they ever need to make a quick getaway. The girls for their part are tenacious, solemn-faced, determined.

Hecate catches Mildred Hubble with Enid Nightshade and Maud Spellbody in the garden after dark one night. Enid and Maud have their brooms on either side of Mildred and hold her steady as she attempts to stabilize enough to make a full circuit of the garden. She feels something flutter under the flare of irritation and waits, lurking in the shadows even as Mildred crash lands for a second time into Miss Tapioca’s prized winter cabbages. It’s not until Mildred is steady enough to make a full circuit around the garden alone that she appears and doles out detentions.

She chews on the inside of her cheek as the girls trapse back inside, Mildred’s nightgown streaked with mud, and wonders if she’s going soft.

 _No,_ she decides. _Best the Hubble girl be capable enough to make a quick escape, should the time come._ She flicks a wrist so the cabbages look slightly less sat upon and sighs, standing in the cool dark of the garden for a moment longer before transferring back to her study.

______

Hattie Blueleaf’s father is killed at the front and the sixth year closes ranks around her. Maria Nightswan’s mother is lost in yet another London air raid and Hecate catches her and Hattie brewing a numbing potion late one night. She can’t bring herself to give a detention, instead she directs them to the task cleaning the potions lab with her in the evenings. She keeps an eye on them. Knows enough about grief to help keep them busy.

Esmeralda Hallow organizes a drive to send bandages dipped in Healing Potion to the front and Hecate knows that she should chide the girls and stay their efforts. Knows the The Great Wizard’s stance of neutrality, the proclamation that all witches and wizards are to stay out of the affairs of humans. But Esmeralda closes her hand around Hattie Blueleaf’s and juts out her chin. Says Hattie’s father volunteered to fight. Went even when he hadn’t have needed to. And isn’t it the least they can do to help where they can?

And Hecate knows too that there are groups all over the country that flaunt the wishes of The Great Wizard. Knows it as she sits in dim candle light and pricks her fingers until they bleed, clumsily sewing the spells into the bandages that she then leaves in the infirmary each night for Miss Blueleaf and Miss Hallow to raid the next day.

She tries not to remember the last war as she sews. She tries not to remember Pippa.

______

One afternoon Mildred absentmindedly trails her sleeve through a Hiccuping Potion and splatters it across Enid Nightshade’s face as she turns to giggle with her over Merlin-knows-what. The potion sends the still laughing Nightshade girl into a fit, and she laughs and hiccups at the same time until it’s all too much she’s violently ill into Ethel Hallow’s cauldron.

There’s a good bit of commonplace fisticuffs between Mildred and Ethel after that, followed by a relatively calm era where Hecate has Mildred in detention too often for her to stir up potion-related trouble.

For two weeks there’s nothing but the red-gold leaves, and pale yellow sun, and a sweet silence unbroken by the sky above. Hecate sleeps through the night and later, when she thinks back on it, feels she should have known better than to think it could be any sign of hope for peace.

_____

**The Birchwick Home for Orphan Girls, 1897**

“I won’t go.”

“You have to.”

“No. I’ll stay here with you.”

“Pippa.”

They’re both crying but Hecate knows it won’t matter, no matter what Pippa says. Tomorrow she’ll be off in a fancy, velvet-seated carriage, whisked away to the the estate of her new family.

_Family._

Hecate tries to smile around her tears but finds she can’t.

“I _won’t_.”  Pippa cries harder and they cling to each other. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this. We were supposed to get adoptamated together. I don’t want them if they won’t take you too.”

Hecate shakes her head. “But they want you, Pippa. And they’ll love you. How could they not?”

“They haven’t even _met_ me. They sent their housekeeper.”

And Hecate swallows around the doubt she feels towards Pippa’s new parents as she mulls over what she’s overheard the housekeeper say to Madam.

_Young enough to raise correctly. Pretty enough to pass as genteel._

Hecate hadn’t had to look up what the word _genteel_ meant. She knows it’s something she’s not. Will never be. Tall, and gangly, and dour where, even undersized, Pippa radiates sunny grace.

Hecate is, after all, what Madam calls a ‘ _Life Timer._ ’  

But she doesn’t fault Pippa. Could never fault Pippa.

Not when Pippa stands up for her, always, against the orphanage bullies. And tucks warming spells she shouldn’t even know yet into Hecate’s pockets. And brushes and braids her hair until it’s almost pretty in the spotted glass of their single mirror. Not when Pippa makes very moment of Hecate’s otherwise cold and lonely life worth living.

Hecate presses the tips of her fingers more firmly into Pippa’s shoulder and pulls her closer. Listens to the way their hearts thump and beat together. Feels Pippa fit against her like a puzzle piece.

She tries to remember a time in her life without Pippa.

She finds she can’t.

The next morning Hecate sits alone on the windowsill and watches as Pippa is loaded into the carriage. She’s uncharacteristically docile and Hecate feels sick with grief and with anger over the Obedience Potion Madam had laced into Pippa’s farewell breakfast.

It’s the only time in Hecate’s memory Madam has been generous with portions.

She hopes Pippa’s new family feeds her sweet breads and warm stews. She hopes Pippa will sleep in a bed heaped with downy blankets and will have new shoes before the next rain and cough medication whenever she’s sick. She hopes Pippa’s new family will know what to do when Pippa has nightmares or know to make lights dance and wink when she is sad.

Hecate rests her forehead against the cold glass and watches the carriage until it’s out of sight.


	3. Chapter III: Minor Battles, Skirmishes Really

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There’s another kind of magic. It hits her just as a second blast goes off and she nearly slips off her broom, heart in her mouth as she spins ungracefully in all directions, frantic and terrified as the Luftwaffe bear down upon the school.
> 
> In the distance the anti-artillery guns join the fray, one of the bullets catching the closest plane in the wing. It spins down and crashes to earth in a ball of fire, landing in a field and exploding with enough force and heat that she frantically climbs higher to avoid being caught in the vortex of hot air.
> 
> The night erupts in light as the fuel tank goes off, and it’s in that moment she spies what she’s been looking for, what she has feared but has been loathed to confirm. Another shape, another broom, flying amongst the German planes.
> 
> Silver hair in the moonlight.
> 
> A familiar profile.
> 
> A familiar magic.

**Cackle’s Academy, 1940**

The night the bombs start falling again it’s clear and brisk and Hecate is on the roof taking notes of star alignments when the sirens take up their lonely wail. Knowing they’ll wake the girls - they always do - she sighs and transfers to her chambers, collecting her clipboard and reviewing the precautionary enchantments they’ve set in place before assembling with the other teachers in the staffroom.

“You’d think our spells would keep out the sirens at the very least if they’re going to keep out bombs,” Dimity mutters pulling her dressing robe more tightly around her with a shiver. “Dreadful racket.”

“I just hope they keep the lights from getting out.” Miss Bat yawns from where she slumps sleepily on the couch next to Mr. Rowan-Webb who pats her hand.

“We haven’t had sirens in ages,” Ada looks worriedly over at Hecate. “They’ve left us well enough alone since the factory was taken out.”

“Heard they’re still keeping munitions stored over there though. Hoped the Jerrys would think they’d been moved to a secure location after the first round of bombings, hide them in plain sight if you will.”

Dimity shrugs when they all stare at her.

“What? Tapioca sends me down sometimes to trade cabbages and carrots for flour or even milk on occasion. It’s amazing what you can get for a veg that’s not tinned these days. Anyway, met a few folk down there who think I’m one of them and get the scope.”

Above the sirens comes a hum that shakes the very windows of the castle. Planes in greater number than ever before, and very nearly overhead. The engines sound different and Hecate catches Ada’s eye as they share a look. “Luftwaffe.”

Miss Bat squeaks and Rowan-Webb puts an arm around her.

There’s a sudden vibration in the air and a sharp whistle that ends in _whump_. Time seems to freeze and then the whole castle shakes in its foundations.

Throughout the halls, girls shriek.

“They’re close,” Ada mutters, looking unusually pale.

“Too close.” Hecate swallows. “The protection charms. What if they’re not -”

“-but they must be. They _have to be_.”

Hecate shakes her head and breathes sharply, trying to tamp down the fear that rises in her chest. “We need to know for sure. I think it would be best if I took a look.”

“But Hecate -”

“The girls, Ada.”

Around them the teachers have gone tense and silent, looking between her and Ada. There’s another whistle, a _whump,_ followed by an even closer blast, and the girls scream again as the click-click-clack of anti-artillery guns join in the racket.  

Hecate curls her fingers and her broom appears in hand. Another twitch and the window slides open. She’s halfway out onto the parapet beyond when Ada calls her name and she turns.

“Hecate. Be careful.”

She ducks a nod and slides the rest of the way out, clinging to the wall with her free hand as a second blast shakes the school. She can hear Ada inside instructing the teachers to gather the girls to the catacombs below the school for safety, and it reassures her, slightly, to know that the girls will be taken care of in her stead.

She casts protective enchantments around herself and kicks off, rising into the cold of the night, heart in her throat and stomach still somewhere on the ground.

The night is still clear and she can see the way the moon glints evilly off the blunt noses of the German fighter planes as they sputter and rumble at altitudes above her broom. She sees a dark shape streak through the air, feels the hum in her very bones, before the bright blast cracks the night in two. They’re just south of the castle and she tightens her grip on the broom handle, heart pounding and palms sweating despite the chill.

Steadying herself, she looks down. Gasps when the light of the castle shows like a lantern in a dark. It glows bright and warm; the only target in the endlessly black of a landscape where every home, and headlight, and street lamp is safely hidden behind blackout curtain or paint.

 _It can’t be_. She thinks frantically. She’s had her fears that the magic around the castle has been weaker than it ought to be, but to be unconcealed to this degree, it’s almost as if - almost as if -

She gasps again and reaches out, feeling the magic below her. There’s her own, familiar and comforting; Miss Bat’s, steady and present; Miss Drills, full of determination and unnecessary spunk. Ada’s is there, too. But it’s faint and worn, almost as if some child has been picking a hole in their sweater, unravelling it and leaving tangled threads in their wake.

There’s another kind of magic. It hits her just as a second blast goes off and she nearly slips off her broom, heart in her mouth as she spins ungracefully in all directions, frantic and terrified as the Luftwaffe bear down upon the school.

In the distance the anti-artillery guns join the fray, one of the bullets catching the closest plane in the wing. It spins down and crashes to earth in a ball of fire, landing in a field and exploding with enough force and heat that she frantically climbs higher to avoid being caught in the vortex of hot air.

The night erupts in light as the fuel tank goes off, and it’s in that moment she spies what she’s been looking for, what she has feared but has been loathed to confirm. Another shape, another broom, flying amongst the German planes.

Silver hair in the moonlight.

A familiar profile.

A familiar magic.

_Ada._

In the distance she hears the approach of yet another familiar sound - RAF planes come at last - and she thanks Merlin as she turns into a nosedive, hurtling down through the icy air until she’s swooping back in through the staffroom window.

She discards her broom and casts a quick Locator Spell before transferring to Ada’s office where Ada is comforting a bevy of crying First Years.

“Ada - those children should be below ground with the others, it isn’t safe.” She twitches her fingers and they girls blink out mid-sob.

Ada looks appalled but Hecate cuts her off.

“There’s no time. Ada -”

“What is it, Hecate, you look as though -”

“Your sister.”

Ada’s mouth moves but words stop coming out. She swallows and then, “What about her?”

“She’s out there. Right now. With them.”

For a moment Ada stands frozen and then sinks slowly into an armchair by the fire.

“I don’t -”

“She’s altered our protection spells. Ada, we must - “ Hecate gasps with fearful realization and snaps her fingers.

All the lights in the castle wink out and she closes her eyes against the rush of dizziness from the magnitude of the spell and the shrieks of girls still finding their way below ground as they plunge into darkness.

“Hecate?” Ada’s voice is very faint in the dark and Hecate casts a small glow-globe to hang in the air, wrapping it with enough spells that even Agatha couldn’t wear them down. The effort is draining and she realizes that Agatha’s magic has been pushing against the spells she’s used on the castle for longer than she’s realized. She blinks in irritation and gestures Ada up.

“We must evacuate. Your sister knows enough about this school, about the old magic that guards it, about all who work here and how our magic can best be eroded. Ada, she’s coming for the school. We _must get the girls out_.”

Ada pushes herself up looking suddenly very old. “Abandon Cackle’s?”

“ _Protect the girls._ ” Hecate hisses and starts for the door. Her knees have been shaking since she landed back on firm ground and she isn’t sure she expend any more magic on a transfer.

_“Ada.”_

Ada straightens but casts her eyes around her office sadly. “We used to play together here. Right here.”

“Ada.”

“Right, yes.” She moves towards Hecate, following the light and together the begin the descent to the catacombs. Another bomb falls quite close and dust shakes from between the stones, raining down upon them until they’re coughing.

“Miss Drill transferred to town. Knows someone who she said she thinks can help get the girls out should it come to that.”

Another blast. “It’s come to that,” Hecate mutters gravely, shaking dust from her eyes. The stairs are hard to manage with how watery her legs feel and she sucks in a breath, trying to get her bearings.

“But where will we go?” Ada stumbles a bit, slipping on a step and Hecate catches the sharp edge of fear in her voice. “We have nearly two-hundred girls, _magical girls._ Anywhere I know of Agatha knows of too.”

Hecate shakes her head, but realizes Ada can't see her in the gloom.

“Is that you? Hecate - Ada -? Is that you?” A voice comes through the dark and they round a corner and squint in the light of dozens of candles that float in the air in the underground chamber, illuminating the dusty trappings and the pale faces of the girls.  

Mr. Rowan-Webb steps forward and gestures them over to where he and Miss Bat have been helping Miss Tapioca amass supplies into organized piles.

“Thank Merlin you’re alright,” Miss Bat squeaks.

“Is everyone accounted for?”

She’s handed a sheet and is relieved to see each name ticked off, doubly relieved to see the small  mark next to Mildred Hubble’s. Tonight is the last night of the year she wants to be chasing a wayward Mildred Hubble through a pitch black castle on some ill begotten misadventure.

As it is, the girl stands nearby, one arm around Maud, who looks down right petrified, and the other around a teary Sybil Hallow. Hecate huffs a sigh of relief and forces herself to focus on the conversation at hand but it’s moving too fast for her to interject.  

“ - no, those caves collapse ages ago.”

“Did they - what a pity. They were close by at least.”

“Ah, a shame.”

“Well, we can’t fly, that’s for certain. Not in these conditions. And close is ideal.”

“We could send them back to their families -”

“Many families of Cackle girls are choosing to defy the Great Wizard and participate in the war effort. Mothers nursing at the front or driving ambulances, working in factories, fathers on the continent -”

“If only we had another castle -”

“That would be just the thing.”

“Everything around here is mostly ruins - but there’s -”

“ _Nightstyx Hall_.” Miss Bat and Ada say in unison, twin smiles of relief pulling at the corners of their mouths.

Hecate feels the whole of the world open beneath her and for a moment everything around her is lost to pin pricks in her vision and a roaring in her ears. She fights to regain her equilibrium, catching Ada’s sleeve when she is able and pinching it between her fingers as she fights to remain upright.

“Ada, we mustn't go there.”

Ada twists to gently dislodge Hecate and takes her hand instead. She pats it gently and her skin is moist and papery and Hecate tries not to shrug her off.

“Now Hecate, we’ll be lucky to have someone with us who knows the place as well as you. Oh, I know it won’t be easy to go back to a place that holds memories of that Pentangle girl, Merlin bless her, but it’s been years since you went to school there. Years and years. And I dare say we could use a guide.”

Ada pats her hand one last time before releasing her, and Hecate is left alone in the corner of the chamber, her brain and stomach churning.

“Pippa Pentangle?” She whispers as if Pippa were a dream. A strange dream amongst the blackness that obscures all reasonable thought, one that should seem pleasant and safe if it didn’t feel so much life pain and grief.

In the dim light a girl carrying a bedroll bumps into her and squeaks out an apology before darting away and Hecate forces herself to uncurl her fists, wincing at where her nails have dug into her palms, creating angry half-moons.

There’s a _whump_ on the stairs and a clatter and everyone in the room freezes. A cold current of fear chases its way through the air until Dimity Drill tumbles down the last of the stairs and the girls break into sounds of relief, cheering and clapping as Dimity gives them a wave and beelines over to Ada.

Hecate forces her feet to move. Forces herself closer to listen. Another _whump_ and blast and the floor shakes and she realizes, now that her adrenaline has worn off, just how loud everything is. Every fiber of her body longs to freeze, to tense up and shut down, but she moves closer still. Sucks in air sharply through her nose until her head clears enough and she can hear Dimity and Ada making plans.

“It should hold everyone. I magicked it to be bigger on the inside. No headlamps - black out of course - but I dare say we could use a Navigation Spell -”

“No.” Her voice comes out in a bark and Dimity stares at her. “No.” She says at a more modulated level, pushing herself to focus every part of her on relaying the necessary information. She quickly explains about Agatha and Dimity whistles.

“Enlargement spell, fine. It’s elementary enough. But Navigation Spells leave traces. We can’t have them follow us, it’s our one shot at making a clean break.”

Ada furrows her brow and rocks back and forth on the balls of her feet. “Then how shall we navigate there. This -  what did you call it - this _bus_? - however do Ordinaries get around if they can’t chart their course from the air or use a Navigation Spell?”

“Map of course!” Mildred Hubble is suddenly at Ada’s elbow holding out a folded sheaf of paper. “Mum says ‘Always travel with a map.’ She gave this to me as a Just-in-Case.”  

“I cannot abide eavesdroppers.” Hecate snaps out of habit than any real ire as the map is laid out on the table before them. Ada and Dimity lean over it and Mildred throws her an apprehensive look before leaning in as well and pointing out the markings that indicate motorways.

A blast, nearer than ever, slams into the castle and Hecate finds herself nearly thrown sideways.

“Time to go,” Dimity shouts over the panicked noises from the girls. Ears ringing, Hecate marshals the girls into two lines, duplicating her enchanted light into three and sending Dimity and Miss Bat on ahead with the first while she takes up the middle of the line and Ada and Rowan-Webb bring up the rear.

As they rise to the main floors, the sharp smell of burning hits them and the girls cough, covering their faces as they tramp through the pitch black halls. The air outside the castle is not much better, and just as dark, aside from the occasional flash from the anti-artillery guns and the gunfire as two RAF Spitfires dogfight with a German plane in the air above.

Dimity keeps the head of the line moving and soon the planes are obscured by the dark branches of trees as she leads them on to the edge of the grounds. After the intensity of the close range blasts, the woods feel surreal in their relative silence. Leaves crunch beneath their feet, but aside from the ever distant clatter engines and the occasional whimper from the girls, the stillness and quiet is almost suffocating.

Behind her the girls are whispering and she stiffens as she hears a voice ask, “Where are we going?”

“Somewhere safer,” another girl whispers back.

“But I don’t want to leave Cackle’s.” The girl sounds so young and Hecate swallows.

“It’s okay, we’ll be okay.”

“I heard we were going to Nightstyx Hall,” a third voice joins in, sounding please to circulate privileged information.

“What’s Nightstyx Hall?”

“I’ve heard Nightstyx Hall is haunted,” the second voice gasps and the third girl laughs softly.

“I wouldn't be surprised.”

“What’s Nightstyx Hall?” The first girl whimpers again, plaintively.

“It’s an old witching academy, closed down ages ago. It was supposed to be really good, better than Cackle’s even.”

“Then why did it close,” the second girl says in hushed tones.

“They found out loads of dark stuff was being done there.”

“Dark magic?” The first girl squeaks.

“Naw, not quite. Done to the students. Terrible stuff. I suppose maybe that _is_ dark magic in a way. It was so bad the headmistress, who was responsible for it all, was sent to Cijamark and imprisoned there until she _died_.”

Both girls gasp and the third voice takes on a gleeful note. “It’s said she still haunts Nightstyx Hall. The school was abandoned but she’s still there. People say it’s like the Gateway to Hell, that place saw such evil. And no one ever goes there. Not ever, ever _ever._ ”

She must pounce on the other two then because they shriek in delighted terror and Hecate whirls around, hot, and sick, and shaking in her anger as she snaps at them to _be quiet._

“Sorry, Miss Hardbroom,” they squeak and she turns back around hoping that they haven’t been able to see her face in the darkness.

Or the tear that run down her cheek as she walks through the dark and frigid night.

______

**Nightstyx Hall, 1900**

“It is the dawn of a new century, Hecate Hardbroom. There have been many advancements in technology, many new ways in which the modern era will try to change the ways of those who are gifted with magic. More, now that ever, is a time to consolidate our power. To find new ways to assert our strengths.”

Hecate stands before the desk of her new Headmistress and tries not to fidget. Tries to stand up straight in her new, crisply-pressed school uniform and hopes she looks worthy.

“Do you know why parents send their children to Nightstyx Hall, Miss Hardbroom.”

Hecate shakes her head.

There’s a tug of magic and her mouth opens without her consent.

“No, ma’am,” she chokes out. Magic slides slickly against her tongue and the Headmistress laughs. There’s no warmth to it, and Hecate closes her mouth again around words she did not form.

“Because Nightstyx is the oldest and the most prestigious school in all of Britain. Parents send their daughters here because they expect them to emerge from these halls as _witches_. Not rustic illusionists, but _witches_. Armed with the full power that is only granted to those who devote themselves to pushing the boundaries of what is, to understand what could be. Witches are powerful beings, Hecate Hardbroom. Very powerful, indeed.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Miss Broomhead rises from behind her desk and crosses around to peer down at Hecate. The pupils of her eyes are small black pricks against cold blue and the contrast gives Miss Broomhead a rather hard look about her. Hecate swallows, standing up even straighter. She good enough at reading grown ups by now that she knows Miss Broomhead isn’t one to cross.

She focuses instead on feeling grateful.

“I pulled you out of the muddle puddle of an orphanage because I feel there is a great talent in you, Hecate Hardbroom.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“Great talent, but a lack of training.” Miss Broomhead moves closer still and her fingers come out and push against Hecate’s jaw, turning her head this way and that as she assess her as if she were an prized animal at auction. Her fingers are bony and very cold and Hecate tries her best not to gasp. “Private lessons, I think. You’ve gone too far without a tutor.”

Miss Broomhead drops her hand but remains close. “Nightstyx girls come from the very best families, Miss Hardbroom. They are the future of magic. Given that, I think it best if you were to leave behind all the trappings of your objectionable beginnings, don’t you agree?”

“Ma’am?”

“That watch you carry. Hand it over.”

Hecate’s hand leaps to her blouse, resting against the fabric that covers the timepiece.

“But, Ma’am - “

Miss Broomhead snaps her fingers and every muscle in Hecate’s body suddenly seizes. Fear slices down her back and she struggles helplessly against invisible bonds and she gasps in search of air for lungs that are suddenly too tight.

“There will be no backtalk, Hecate, _dear_.” Miss Broomhead says silkily. “I can make you great. I can give you what you seek - a place of legitimacy in the world of magic. But you question me,” Broomhead snaps her fingers and Hecate feels herself go limp, “I shall throw you back into that squalid, impoverished hovel of an institution and you can rot.”

Miss Broomhead smiles, all hard eyes and sharp teeth and Hecate raises a trembling hand and slowly pulls the watch from around her neck. Triumph written on her every feature, Miss Broomhead takes it from her and Hecate doesn’t breathe again until the Headmistress has crossed back to settle behind her desk.

“Lessons Tuesday and Thursdays. The basement. It is in your best interest not to be late.” Miss Broomhead waves her hand and watch disappears before Hecate’s eyes.

“Dismissed”

Hecate forces herself to turn and walk from the office.

She can feel Miss Broomhead’s eyes on her back as she goes.

______

She’s too ill at ease to be hungry, but she hasn’t received her room assignment yet and doesn’t dare return to Broomhead’s office to ask. Instead she follows the din and clamor across the main entrance to what must be the dining hall.

The smell of a savory stew hits her and she comes to a stop, trying to remember the last time Birchwick’s had a donation generous enough to put meat on their tables. For a moment she simply stands, staring at the high ceilings and glittering lamps, and at the mass of laughing, well dressed girls with neat hair and rosy cheeks and -

A body slams into hers and she stumbles back, raising her hands defensively in preparation for a nasty bit of spell work. But the body merely hugs her, a nose pressing against the side of her neck.

“Don’t hex me, Hiccup, my goodness!”

“P-pippa?”

Pippa only holds on more tightly and Hecate can feel her half-laughing or half-crying. She is suddenly keenly aware she doesn't know where to put her hands. She doesn’t think she’s been hugged since Pippa left Birchwick’s. No, she’s certain that she hasn’t been.

She must stiffen because it’s only then that Pippa pulls back.

“Hecate Hardboom.”

“Pippa.”

Hecate wants to smile the way Pippa is smiling. But instead she just wants to cry. Or be alone.

Pippa bites her lip and glances around at where all the other students are staring at them.

“Is that the charity case, Pentangle?” A girl calls.

“Do you _know her_?”

“Pentangle, why is it you’re always picking up all the stray forest creatures?”

There’s a bit of laughter at that and Pippa frowns taking Hecate’s hand.

“Let’s go somewhere quieter, shall we?”

Hecate finds herself tugged along as Pippa marches them out of the dinning hall, only pausing to steal a basket of savory looking dinner rolls off a nearby table.

“Oy, Pentangle, give those back.”

“I’ll tell Broomhead,” another girl calls.

Pippa ignores them and continues to sweep out, undeterred.

“They won’t tell,” she confides, once they’ve reached the quiet of the entrance hall and start for the steps. “That would mean _talking_ to Broomhead. They’re terrified.”

Head still not quite caught up, Hecate allows Pippa to bustle her up the stairs, losing track of twists and turns or corridors as they climb higher and higher up into the castle.

They come to a door that opens at their approach, and Hecate finds herself in a cozy room where everything is soft light and warm tones. Pippa shuts the door behind them, sets the basket of rolls down on the desk, and turns to her.

Her arms are up around Hecate’s neck a second later and this time Hecate remembers.

Remembers everything about affection.

Remembers as her hands come up to Pippa’s back, tugging her closer. She doesn’t want to cry. But she does. Just a little.

But Pippa doesn’t seem to mind.

“Here,” she says, pulling back and crossing to a shelf where there’s an ornate wooden box. She pulls out a rag, hardly a tatter of cloth, and hands it to Hecate. “Yours, I believe.”

Hecate stares at her. “That’s my handkerchief.”

“You gave it to me my last morning at Birchwick’s, do you remember?”

And Hecate remembers that, too. Remembers how Pippa had cried all night and how Hecate had dried Pippa’s tears and tucked the worn hankie into her hand, hushing her least the other girls wake and Pippa get banished to Madam’s office for the rest of the night.

She reaches out and touches the cloth but doesn’t take it. She’s knows she’s staring, but she can’t seem to catch up with recent events.

Pippa. _Here_.

Pippa gently uncurls Hecate’s fingers, but she doesn’t place the handkerchief into her hand. Instead she slides her own fingers through Hecate’s and pulls her down onto the bed so they sit side by side.

“Hi.”

Hecate shakes her head and Pippa laughs.

“Hi,” she finally manages back and Pippa squeezes her hand.

“I wanted to come back for you. Every day I asked. Hiccup, I never wanted to leave without you -”

It’s all a jumbled rush and Hecate shakes her head more forcefully. “Pippa, no. I know you didn’t have a choice -”

“I didn’t even know where the orphanage _was_. We were so young. And my new family wouldn’t tell me. I didn’t know how to _find_ you - I couldn’t _find you_ \- “

Hecate hushes her. “What are you doing here? Where is your family?”

Pippa looks startled then laughs, but it’s less bright than before. “Oh, them.” She shrugs and looks like she’s trying to choose her words carefully, but Hecate tugs on her hand.

“Tell me.”

“I’m more of a trophy than a daughter.” Pippa slides her hand free and crosses to the shelf again to pull down a picture that lies frame down on the shelf.

“That’s my mother. That’s my father.” She settles next to Hecate again and points at the couple in the frame. They’re very elegant in rich furs and fine hats.

“They’re beautiful,” Hecate whispers, eyes sliding over the mother’s features. When she looks up Pippa is looking down at the frame still and Hecate recognizes the hunger on her face.

“You never see them.”

Pippa shrugs. “They travel. A lot.”

“And they sent you here.”

“To make a lady out of me.”

“A _witch_ ,” Hecate mimics, Broomhead’s speech still cloying her mind.

Pippa slaps a finger to Hecate’s mouth but her laughter slices through the room.

“Shhhh, you _don’t_ want to be caught disrespecting Miss Broomhead.” Pippa’s eyes sparkle and Hecate smiles against Pippa’s fingers.

“Is she really awful. Like Madam?”

A look passes over Pippa’s face, but it’s gone before Hecate can interpret it. “We get fed enough. We have warm clothes. And books. Hecate, we get to _learn_. But she is strict. And there’s something about her that I don’t - “ Pippa breaks off and shivers, wrinkling her nose.

“Never mind all that, you’ll do just fine here. You always out-spelled the other girls on the rare chance Madam gave us lessons. Even the older ones.”

“Broomhead wants me to have private lessons.” Hecate twists her braid around her finger, apprehension growing as Pippa frowns.

“Glad it’s not me,” she shivers but grins, eyes scrunching up as she gazes over at Hecate.

“But you’ve impressed her. Must have.”

Hecate shrugs uncertainty. “Why do they call you ‘Pentangle?’”

“Surname.” Pippa takes the picture frame and returns it to the shelf. “Finally have one. Pippa Pentangle.” She turns over her shoulder and eyes Hecate. “No one here knows that I’m not their real daughter. They pretended I was ill as a child and that they’d kept me quiet. Very into lineage, the Pentangles. That’s why they wanted a girl. They’ve forbidden me from talking about my time at Birchwick’s. So we’ll have to come up with how we know each other.”

She settles back beside Hecate and takes her hand. “I can’t believe it’s you.”

“And I can’t believe it’s _you,_ Pipsqueak.”

“Less of a Pipsqueak now, though, don’t you think?”

And Hecate has to agree. Pippa has filled out, no longer skin and bones wrought by lack of nutrition and chronic colds by the looks of it. Her skin is clear and bright, her hair golden and shiny. She comes up to Hecate’s chin and looks so _healthy_ that Hecate nearly weeps from relief.

“Hey, now.” Pippa takes her hand again. “We’re together again.” She reaches her freehand up and catches the tear that trickles down Hecate’s cheek.

“Let me brush your hair out for you, hmmm? Just like old times.” She fetches a brush, returning with a dinner roll that she presses into Hecate’s hand. It’s warm, and Hecate catches a whiff of Pippa’s warming spell, suddenly familiar magic after years forgotten. “Then I’ll show you to your room. We get our own here, isn’t that the bats? I knew there was a new girl, just not that it would be _you_. Luckily, you’re right down the hall.”

And Hecate takes a deep breath. Feels Pippa’s hands work apart her braid and start with the brush. She’s less clumsy now than Hecate remembers her and Hecate leans back against her, taking a bite from the roll and chewing slowly.

Pippa chatters on about the school, about classes, about all that she and Hecate have to catch up on, and Hecate closes her eyes and relaxes.

She feels like she might at last be home.


	4. Chapter IV: The Gates of Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Wards are strong here at least.” Miss Bat tilts her head and frowns at the ceiling. “Strange.”
> 
> Ada shrugs. “This school is very old. Older than Cackle’s even. I wouldn’t pretend to know what magic governs it. But at least it’s one less thing to worry about.”
> 
> The other teachers chime in with their relief over not having to work out new enchantments but Hecate lets her eyes drift close, blocking them out until she can hear the hum of magic that cloaks the school.
> 
> It bumps up against her and her eyes fly open.
> 
> It’s enough to know it’s there, she decides. She doesn’t have to like it.

**Cackle’s Academy, 1940**

By the time they reach the bus the girls are shivering and silent. They stomp up the steps and inside while Hecate lurks outside, too antsy and claustrophobic to board until every last girl and teacher is on. She nods at Ada who brings up the rear and it isn’t until Dimity has taken up the driver’s seat and the engine has grumbled to life that she takes a breath and ducks through the doorway, taking the steep stairs slowly and surveying the interior when she reaches the top.

The girls are murmuring to each other now and pressing to see out the windows.

“I’ve never been in a bust before,” she hears Enid Nightshade whisper before Ethel laughs unkindly.

“It’s _bus_ , frogbrain.”

The girls begin hissing insults at each other and Hecate sighs sharply, the normalcy in the face of such disruption unsticking her enough that she’s able to scan around for a seat.

The bus is indeed larger on the inside but, still, the girls cram three to a row with Miss Bat and Mr. Rowan-Webb sharing a seat mid-center and she tries not to groan when she spies Ada sitting next to Felicity Foxglove who already looks to be interviewing her about the events of the night. Her eyes settle on Mildred Hubble who sits alone in the front seat of the bus. Mildred waves and slides over to make space when Dimity calls out to her.

“Mildred, which is the gas and which is the break again, sweets?”

Mildred darts up and ducks under Hecate’s arm where she braces herself against the back of the nearest seat and points out the difference, helping Miss Drill shift the bus into gear until the rumble of motor increases and slowly the bus begins to move.

“Best stay close, Mildred Hubble. The nice bus driver I know down in the village got this contraption running for me the first time so I could come get you lot out, but I hardly know what I’m doing. As different as an owl is from a broom, I warrant.” Mildred ducks a nod and slides back around Hecate into the seat. After a moment Hecate hesitantly settles next to her, sitting stiffly on the cold vinyl of the bench.

Mildred doesn’t seem to notice and rustles around in her nap sac until she produces the map once again. Hecate finds it spread unceremoniously across their laps as Mildred fiddles with a small shiny tube.

Pulling her sweater taut, Mildred places the top of the tube against the fabric. There’s a click and a dim light skitters across the page, just bright enough for them to see the tiny ‘x’ that has been marked over where the castle is located.

“Mildred Hubble - what on _earth -_ ”

“It’s a torch.” Mildred clicks the device again and the light disappears. Another click and the watery steak of light appears once more upon the page. “It runs on batteries, not magic.” She clicks if off then on again. “Another thing Mum tells me to always have as a Just-in-Case.” She leans over the map. “Take the left up here, Miss Drill.”

Hecate stares down at her until Mildred looks up and shrugs. “Two more lefts and then you should hit the motorway.” The light clicks off again. “I shouldn’t risk the battery unless we really need it. And a sweater over a light really is not good enough in a blackout. Best keep it off, I think.”

They’re silent for a while until Hecate can’t help it. “Where did you learn all this?”

“Mum,” Mildred says. “Well, just the part about how to read a map and not to waste batteries. Everyone knows about blackout protocol. They hand out pamphlets _constantly_.”

Mildred settles back against the window and for a long while they drive silence, the trees giving way to open fields and through the dashboard window the moon hangs brightly in the ink black sky.

It takes a long time before her brain feels settled enough to think in any sort of linear manner. The events of the night have shaken her to the core. The Luftwaffe and their bombs would have been more than enough. But then there had been Agatha and a mess of screaming, frightened girls. And now she’s returning to the one place she swore she’d never tread again.

 _The Gates of Hell_.

She’d scoff at the drama of it, but it does ring true. Her stomach flips and she tries to direct her mind elsewhere.

It’s gotten very cold on the bus and beside her Mildred Hubble has fallen asleep with her cheek pressed against the window. Icy air seeps in through the glass and Hecate tuts, tugging out the handkerchief from her sleeve and gingerly sliding her fingers between Mildred and the window until she can position it in place. Mildred shifts and frowns a bit in her sleep but doesn’t wake. Her cheek is cool but the rest of her is warm beside Hecate despite her still being clad only in her nightgown and sweater, socks bunched up over the tops of her untied boots.

Something unexpected blooms warmly in Hecate’s chest and she studies the girl, letting her mind assess Mildred’s improvements and her failings since coming to Cackle’s. It’s a diversion, and Hecate finds herself lesson planning in her head, distracts herself by considering all the things Mildred Hubble could learn if she only had a little more hands on training and was only a little less - oh, _well_ , a lot less - distractible.

Shifting in her seat Hecate watches as they chase the moon across the landscape. She sits in the sleepy silence of the bus staring hard at the horizon until the moon dips below it and the sun slices through the dwindling night, bright and warm against their backs.

______

Once the sun is up, so are the girls. They’re hungry and cranky, too hot or too cold depending on which side of the bus the sun hits as they turn north. The other teachers do their best to placate any disruptive behavior, but Hecate stays still, facing forward, eyes on the skyline.

“You alright back there, HB?” Miss Drill says, glancing in a large mirror that hangs over the windshield.”

She ducks a curt nod but fears she is not.

“Been driving down this route for a while now. Can you check the map and make sure we’re still on course?”

The map has settled like a flimsy blanket over Mildred who still sleeps on and Hecate bends over it, peering at it and tracing the course from the ‘x’ that marks Cackle’s and stopping just shy of the ‘x’ that marks Nightstyx Hall. She can’t bring herself to move her finger over the second ‘x’ and sits back.

“Next right you see. Turn there”

Dimity nods and taps her fingers on the wheel and Hecate wonders how she’s looking so bright-eyed and pink cheeked despite the sleepless night.

“Driving is _exhilarating._ ” Dimity catches her eyes in the glass again and grins and Hecate tries very hard not to roll her eyes.

“Ay-up. Lookie here.” Dimity slows the bus over to the shoulder of the road and the girls sit up, craning to look out the windows.

“Are we here?”

“Is this _it_.”

“All I see are sheep and cows.”

“I’m _hungry_.”

Dimity pushes a lever that releases the bus doors. “Hold down the fort, HB. Back in a flash.”

It’s rather more than a flash and as the girls grow more and more antsy in the close space Hecate’s has half a mind to learn to drive the bus herself and leave Dimity behind.

Just as her thoughts reach murderous levels, she returns, pink cheeks even pinker from the cold and her curls a bit windswept.

“Breakfast!” She holds up a basket filled with milk jugs and several loaves of bread. Snapping her fingers, the goods divide and begin to float through the cabin and the girls pluck them from the air with murmurs of excitement and relief.

“Everybody share now,” Dimity grins and her eyes twinkle with a bit of mischief. “Else you’ll have to settle with Miss Hardbroom.”

Hecate rolls her eyes and snags a portion from the air, holding it self-consciously as Mildred sleeps on beside her.

They return to the road and clouds roll in, dark and dangerous and just as fitting an omen as any could be as the knot in Hecate’s stomach grows harder with each passing mile. Near mid-day Mildred awakens with a very sleepy yawn and sits up, hair mussed and cheek wrinkled from the pattern of the handkerchief that sticks there. She stretches and frowns, looking a little disoriented and more than a little grumpy.

When her eyes come to rest on Hecate she starts, caught off-guard and her expression becomes guilty as she reaches up and dislodges the handkerchief, staring at it for a long moment before looking up again in bemusement. She holds it out but Hecate shakes her head. “Keep it,” she manages, a little roughly. “And here.”

She holds out the portion of bread and milk and Mildred takes it, still looking off kilter.

“You’re quite the sleeper, Mildred Hubble. I feared you’d taken a Waking-Death Potion.”

Mildred yawns loudly and stretches again, shaking her head and looking a little more herself.

“Mum would love to hear you say that. Could never get me down as a baby, says I always seemed to feel sleeping was a waste of time. But once I’m out,” she yawns again, “Mum says I’m a bear to wake up.” She sets the food on her lap and scrubs her face. “Says I’m a real grouch, too.”

Hecate laughs despite herself and Mildred eyes snap up to her own. They stare at each other and Hecate sniffs and returns her gaze out the front window. “Eat your breakfast, Mildred Hubble. We’re very nearly there.”

The words bring the nearly constant surge of dread back to high, but something about Mildred sharing so openly snippets of her childhood makes her feel a warmth inside where before there was only cold.

 _It’s because it’s awkward and uncomfortable_ , she tells herself, watching as the first of the raindrops slap against the glass front window. But she knows it’s more than that.

She holds onto the feeling as Dimity makes a right turn and a brambly wood rises up to greet them.

The road twists and Hecate’s stomach follows suit.

For somewhere within those trees lies the very Gates of Hell.

______

Thirty years of neglect and disuse have left their mark on Nightstyx Hall. The heavy iron gates loom before them, rusting and covered in thick vines. Dimity struggles with the charm to open them, working at it until she’s panting.

“Strange,” she mutters as she jerks her palm upwards through the air once more, “it’s as if they are resisting.” She frowns and tries again. “It’s not as though they don’t want us to come in. It’s almost as if they don’t want to let whatever’s in there out.”

She shivers and bit a laughs a bit. “Must be listening to the girls’ ghost tales. Bet your broomstick I just need a bit more - “ She pushes her palm through the air with renewed gusto and there’s a deep grinding sound as the gates at last unstick themselves and slowly, oh so slowly, swing open on their rusted hinges to admit them.

“There we go,” Dimity breathes, returning to her spot behind the wheel. “Just needed to remember what their job is. Dare say the rest of the castle is a right wreck if these gates are anything to go by.”

She’s not wrong. Nightstyx Hall, always grim, and bleak, and forlorn in Hecate’s memory has been done no favors by the passage of time. Tangles of ivy obscure gray stone and broken windows gape like missing teeth. The north tower has collapsed in on itself by the looks of it and what’s left of the great oak doors tilt dangerously in their frame, revealing only darkness within.

Rain slaps against the bus as they trundles ever closer to the castle, the road more overgrowth now than cobblestone. Branches from trees that were not in existence in Hecate’s day lash against the windows and each squeak of wood on glass sends a shock of ice down her back. She grits her teeth and swallows bile as the bus finally rumbles to a stop, blocked by a large tree that bars them from approaching any closer.

“Frogspawn, another gatekeeper,” Dimity mutters glancing in the rearview at Hecate. “And with all this rain, the girls will have to make a run for it.”

“I dare say I hoped the hall would have held up better.” Hecate jumps as Ada speaks from behind her. She turns slowly to find her standing in the aisle, a hand on the back of the seats on either side. “Who knows what kind of forest life has taken up residence, just look at those doors.” She sighs. “Best we investigate before we have excited, anxious girls dashing inside and falling through the floorboards. Hecate - you know the way?”

Every muscle protesting, Hecate manages a nod and somehow rises, legs like lead and a rushing in her ears as she stiffly works her way down the bus steps.

Outside the air is fresh and cool, and she gasps in a breath trying to press herself into focus. Her mind feels far outside her body, everything muddled and as if in slow motion, every breath and movement costing her dearly. Her Rain Repellent Spell comes out weakly but Ada doesn’t seem to notice as she joins her in the wet. Together they begin to trudge up the walk, the only sound the splash of rain around them and the wind in the trees.

The nearer they come to the castle, the more the world seems to slow around Hecate. Finally she stops and stands staring. Ada halts as well and twists her hands before her.

“Dreadful what happened here.”

Hecate nods.

“Did you know the girl - the one besides Pippa Pentangle - they said she was - “

Again Hecate nods, more sharply this time.

Ada sucks in a breath and looks at her grimly. “I’m sorry to have to bring you back here. If there were another way - any other place - “

“We do what we must to protect the girls.” Her works seem distant, automatic, as if they’re not formed in her own mouth and released into the world, but Ada looks relieved.

“Still, I am sorry.” They stand in the rain together for moment and Ada shakes her head. “My own sister. You’ve read the paper. You know the reports of what is happening in German territory.” Ada shivers. “We must not let that happen here.”

“We fight back,” Hecate says slowly. Again the words feel distant, but there’s a thread of something stirring through her nerves now. An anger and and a need for purpose. “We fight. Like Pippa did. Like we should have in the last war.”

Ada looks at her. Long and hard and full of consideration until she nods decisively. “Great Wizard be damned.”

Hecate laughs, a little too sharply, a little too wildly. Terror races up her backbone but it’s mixed with a certain type of thrill. She can’t bring herself to repeat Ada’s recalcitrant remark, but nods, and her body unsticks enough for her to step forward into the dark shadow of the castle which was once her home.

______

Inside, the damage is not as bad as she expected. The stone walls have, for the most part, held, and the mess is largely limited to the tower and whatever has been let in through the open windows. Dust, and leaves, and cobwebs litter the entryway, the silent classrooms, the darkened bedrooms. There is damage to the dining hall roof and another tree has sprouted there, gown tall and strong in the years since students took their supper on the tables that now tilt on rotten legs beneath the arching shelter of its branches.

Hecate keeps moving. Tries not to look at the table in the corner where she and Pippa sat side by side for every meal. Does not glance down certain aisles of the library or into the bedrooms on the fourth floor of the east wing. She does not go down to the basement, doesn’t mention it to Ada. She simply devotes herself to the task of keeping one foot in front of the other as they assess the damage until they are satisfied that it is safe enough to bring in the girls.

She works alongside the other teachers to cast Dirt Begone Spells and Cleaning Charms. They stand back to back in the entryway as the girls stand around them in huddles, chattering excitedly as the teachers work the spells. Dimity and Ada are warm on either side of her, and though she stiffens at the contact, she can’t help but feel rallied by the power of casting as if they were a Coven.

She she supposes they are now.

A Coven born from the necessity of protecting their young charges and the hope for resilience after a battle lost, a new war just begun. 

They get the castle into enough shape that they can settle the girls in for the night. Dimity and Miss Bat tackling room assignments while Miss Tapioca unloads the dried beans and tinned foods from the bus and sets about making a tasteless, lukewarm soup. It’s better than nothing and they eat in the entrance hall as the dining hall has been regulated as Off Limits, a project for another day. Hecate perches stiffly on the steps of the grand staircase and surveys the girls as they sit cross legged on the floor below, most still in their night things.

“We’ll need supplies.”

Ada looks up from her soup. “Yes, sooner rather than later.”

“I noticed some uniforms and clothing items left in closets,” Miss Bat chimes in. Beside her Rowan-Webb blots soup from his beard and hums. “Saw a greenhouse out back. Needs a bit of repair, but we can get it going.”

“I’ll work out a timetable,” Hecate closes her fingers around her watch fob and steadies herself on the reliable tick within. “The girls will need structure. It’s the fastest way to make them feel most secure.”

“And I’ll create an inventory of potions ingredients and supplies,” Dimity plops down between Hecate and Ada and wrinkles her nose at the soup.

“Wards are strong here at least.” Miss Bat tilts her head and frowns at the ceiling. “Strange.”

Ada shrugs. “This school is very old. Older than Cackle’s even. I wouldn’t pretend to know what magic governs it. But at least it’s one less thing to worry about.”

The other teachers chime in with their relief over not having to work out new enchantments but Hecate lets her eyes drift close, blocking them out until she can hear the hum of magic that cloaks the school.

It bumps up against her and her eyes fly open.

It’s enough to know it’s there, she decides. She doesn’t have to like it.

Sighing she stands and steps neatly up the stairs, Ada rising and following her.

“I’ll need an office. I expect you will too.” She turns a corner and together they climb another flight and come to stand in front of a large door at the top of the landing. “This is the headmistress’s office.”

Ada looks at her and then at the door before placing a hand on the knob. Hecate winces. But instead comes a suction noise as the door seals shut and the knob glows gold beneath Ada’s hand.

“There.” Ada releases the handle and steps back. “Off Limits. Shall we explore other options?”

Shaky with relief, Hecate ducks a nod and they continue on, selecting a smaller classroom just by the staffroom for Ada, and a bedroom with a large adjoining set of chambers for Hecate. She vaguely remembers it belonging to a older witch who had taught runes when Hecate had first come to the school. She doesn’t remember her name, only that she had been kind, and that her tenure at Nightstyx Hall hadn’t lasted into Hecate’s second year.

The inside is still rather dusty and she bids Ada a goodnight and runs another Cleaning Charm around the room. It does the job well enough until she can really summon the strength to give the room a good scrub and she settles behind the rickety desk and conjures paper, a quill, and ink.

Throughout the castle she can hear Dimity and Miss Bat getting the girls settled, and she sets about planning out what the next day will bring. She groups the girls into cleaning crews. Requisitions the older girls to supervise and selects Esmeralda Hallow to assist the teachers with helping prepare classrooms for lessons.

She works until the dusty candle on the desk has burnt down to just a flicker and then scrubs her hand over her face as she trudges to the damp and musty bed in the chamber beyond.

She’s too tired to attempt to make it a bit more homey, too tired to change out of her clothes.

______

That night she dreams of Pippa, or at least she thinks she does. She feels so near, somehow just always out of sight, out of reach. In hear mind there seem to be snatches of her voice, her smile, a surging feeling that rises in Hecate’s chest and warms her belly.

Helplessly, Hecate chases Pippa through the twisting, over-bright colors of a disorienting dreamworld. It’s a game of hide-and-seeks she’s played for years and years, more vivid and desperate tonight now that Hecate has returned to the place where Pippa was once flesh, and blood, and real.

So very real.

There’s a breath on her cheek and she swears she can hear Pippa, swears she could just reach out and catch her up - hold her close, or kiss her, or - _kiss her._ The warmth surges through her again, sweet, and terrifying, and electric.

She’s so close, so _close_. If only she could - if only -

The dream twists and suddenly she’s outside the Headmistress’s door again, alone this time, no Ada by her side.

No Pippa.

Only cold.

Something stirs deep in the castle. A dark shadow. It stalks the halls.

Comes closer. And closer. And -

Hecate awakes at dawn, out of breath, with tears on her cheeks.

She doesn’t dare fall back asleep.


	5. Chapter V: Down Below, Where No One Goes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Miss Hardbroom?”
> 
> She swallows and tries not to think of the rumors of ghosts. Knows it’s foolish and that Broomhead is long gone, long imprisoned, long dead. Still, she can’t stop the fear and revulsion that twists her stomach at the thought of Mildred Hubble in Broomhead’s clutches. She swallows once more and steadies herself.
> 
> “You must show me, Mildred. You must show me exactly what you saw."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg, thank you, thank you, thank you for your comments. They have given me LIFE. I literally was jumping on my bed reading them. thank you - they are so wonderful and motivating and make me make noises like a tea kettle - a very delighted tea kettle. 
> 
> i'm really, really happy because we're getting to some of my fav parts of the fic. BUCKLE UP. 
> 
> xoxo

**Nightstyx Hall, 1940**

Their first week at the castle is as disorienting to Hecate as her dreams. The dark nightmarish memories cling to every hall she strides down, every corner giving way to painful recollections and near panic, fit nicely with the dust and the gloom.

But now girls wearing mismatching sweaters and knee socks skate down the halls with charmed dusters attached to their feet, leaving smooth tracks in their wake that sparkle in the light from the repaired windows. Now there is light and air like never before. Color and laughter in all corners of the castle, where it had only ever been relegated to Pippa before.

Mildred follows Dimity around with a crudely drawn floor plan and seems to have quite a lot of opinions on where new sconces should be hung.

Hecate catches Enid Nightshade and Felicity Foxglove using a spell to charm an overgrown rose vine into submission so that it trails prettily along the bare stone walls and blossoms into deep red roses that never seen to fade.

She's about to dole out detentions when Ada glides by and takes her by the arm, steering her down stairs despite her protests and into the old dining hall.

Girls using Sweeping Spells toil around the large chamber and the other teachers are gathered, watching as Miss Bat and Mister Rowan-Webb conjure a large glass dome into place where the roof cracks open above to reveal the sky.

“I thought we’d keep the tree.” Ada’s eyes twinkle and Hecate looks slowly around the room. Mildred is now painting a mural around the perimeter. Stars, and runes, and an assortment of scenes that make Hecate blink: two witches on brooms propping up a third, teaching her to fly. An older witch, who looks familiar, leaning over a young witch at her cauldron. A depiction of a coven that seems to be so life like it almost moves and Hecate has to blink to assure herself it’s static.

Mildred’s painting the north corner of the room now, the shape coming to form before their eyes.

It’s a castle. Not this one, but a familiar one. A castle on a hill.

Beside her, Ada sniffs.

“Quite wonderful.”

Hecate bites at her tongue. Feels she should disparage this waste of time when the girls could be learning. Could be doing productive work and bettering their minds.

Instead she turns on her heel and retreats, a strange sensation playing in her chest. She nearly trips over Beatrice Bunch, Clarice Crow, and Sybil Hallow as they crouch on the floor, holding hands and chanting until a cheery red rug pops into being and unfurls itself down the long hallway that leads to the entrance hall. They hop up when they see her, looking guilty.

She simply shakes her head and sides steps them.

The truth is, the castle is being rendered unrecognizable.

The truth is, every passing day it looks more like Cackle’s and less like Nightstyx.

The truth is, everyday it looks more like Home.

She closes the door to her chambers firmly behind her leans against it, breathing a sigh of relief.

Spying the daily paper which has materialized on her desk in her absence, she crosses and settles down to read it cover to cover, but her mind isn’t fully on the task.

Instead she thinks of the ghosts from her past.

Thinks of roses, and rugs, and paint on the wall.

Thinks of the people whose laughter echoes up from below and wonders at the fondness in her heart for them.

Wonders how she could come feel fondness for anyone after Pippa. Wonders what it means that she does.

Sighing she smooths the paper out and begins again.

She misses Pippa more than she’s allowed herself to for a long, long time.

______

**Nightstyx Hall, 1904**

The first of spring’s blossoms are just beginning to peak out their colorful heads from the bare branches when Pippa bustles into her room one day with an equally colorful box under one arm and a posey of greenhouse flowers in the other.

“What’s all this?” Hecate says, looking up as she slides a finger into her book to hold her place.

“Your birthday, of course.”

Hecate stares at her.

Pippa places the box on the bed and sighs. “You forgot, again, didn’t you.”

Hecate shakes her head, blushing as Pippa holds out the flowers. She lets her book flop shut and takes them with careful fingers.

She’s still not used to it. Having a birthday. Hadn’t even know what a birthday _was_ until four years ago when Pippa had been sent a large box of sweets from her parents.

“That’s alright, Hiccup,” Pippa slides onto the bed next to her and sneaks a flower from the bunch, tucking it behind Hecate’s ear. “We can always choose another date if there’s one you like better. Samhain, perhaps? Maybe Midsummers? That’s why my parents gave me the date of Ostara, so I’d remember, and because it’s my favorite. But I thought you deserved a day all your own, one where where you don’t have to share with any other celebration.”

Hecate feels a pleased warmth flood her cheeks. “Today is perfect.”

Pippa finishes her fussing and thrusts the package into her hands. “Good. Because Madam _did_ say once that she thought we’d both been born in the spring. But who knows, really. Go on, open it.”

Hecate very carefully undoes the bright ribbon and pulls back the thick paper. Inside is a book of botany, wrapped within a black silk handkerchief.

“Because you deserve a book of plants to remember your mother by. And the handkerchief is for -”

Hecate curls her fingers around it and brings it to her suddenly damp eyes.

“- well, yes, for that.”  Pippa beams. “You’ve been looking so grown up lately, I thought you should have something that a lady would have.”

“Grown up? Have I?”

“You have. Something about the way you carry yourself. The other girls think you’re quite mysterious.”

“The other girls think I’m a freak.”

Pippa shakes her head. “They’re just half afraid, half in awe of you. You’re still the only one who gets private lessons with Broomhead. And you’re more powerful than half our year combined.”

Hecate stills, worrying the sleek fabric of the handkerchief until it’s smoothed out across her knee.

Warm fingers still her hand and she glances up to see Pippa looking at her very seriously. “They don’t know how much it takes out of you, those lessons.”

Hecate shakes her head and Pippa entwines their fingers. “I wish there were something I could do. The nightmares alone are bad enough, the way you come back up from the basement looking as if -”

“Don’t.”

“Hiccup.”

“Don’t. Please, Pippa.”

Pippa softens. “Alright. You’re right. Not today. Let’s look through your book. I dare say you know everything in there already, but I love it when you read aloud.” She moves so she’s curled against Hecate’s side and Hecate pulls the book into her lap, marveling at the fine illustrations.

“Your mother would have been awfully proud of you, Hecate.”

Pippa’s looking up at her from where her head rests on Hecate’s shoulder and Hecate traces the edge of an illustrated callalily on one of the creamy pages. Every inch of where Pippa presses against her feels warm, and glowy, and bright, and it makes her breath catch in a pleasant sort of way. She forces herself to relax into the feeling, to put aside the dread she feels whenever she remembers she has lessons tonight.

For a few more hours, she gets to stay right here. With Pippa. Tucked away from the whispering girls and Broomhead’s ever increasing demands on her magic.

She settles back against the headboard and begins to read.

______

**Nightstyx Hall, 1940**

The girls, of course, have questions.

About the bombs, about why Cackle’s was abandoned to the enemy.

“I think we ought to tell them the truth,” Miss Bat presses during their first true staff meeting since setting up residence at Nightstyx. They’ve had a series of huddles - urgent, and fast-paced, and decisive - as they’ve worked to get the girls situated and into a routine as quickly as possible. But it certainly hasn’t left any time for a long term strategy.

But today Miss Tapioca has put the girls to work in the salvaged greenhouse practicing enchantments that will grow cabbages faster, and Hecate savors the luxury and comfort of a well ordered meeting.

“Young girls are impressionable.” Ada worries. “My own sister, working with the Germans - “

“There now, Ada, no one blames you.” Dimity shifts her chair forward a bit and pushes the sheet documenting correspondences with parents across the table. “Parents are just glad we got them out and that they’re safe. It does seem that the girls whose parents don’t believe they’re safest with us were all pulled after the first bombings. And the girls left have parents too involved in the war effort for them to return home, or are faced with terrible food shortages, or worst of all, have no home or family to return to.”

Hecate bites at her lip, half pleased and filled with a warm pride with the trust placed in the Cackles staff, half disarmed by the emotions Dimity's words bring up. She blinks, tries not to see a too small Pippa with her warm eyes and her warm hands. Tries to blot out the memories of holding Pippa’s hand, how Pippa had clung to her in their years at Birchwick. How Hecate had clung right back. In those early years. When all they had in the world we each other.

Ada is saying her name and she blinks again, at a loss to regain the thread of conversation.

“I apologize. The question?”

“I said 'speaking of the war effort.' I believe that in the interest of instituting Cackle’s philosophy at Nightstyx, we should  be quite upfront with all staff members about our intentions.” Ada’s eyes find and hold her own and Hecate gives her a nod.

“Right then.” Ada straightens and squares her shoulders. “We all know the threat of the war to this country. It is grave. Graver still, the rumors - and I dare say they are not rumors - from abroad. If it can happen there, it can happen here. In England. And contrary to the rulings of The Great Wizard, I believe with so many girls orphaned by the war effort, or who have parents working tirelessly to combat this great evil, Cackle’s staff cannot in good conscious continue to be neutral.”

Ada’s voice quavers, and Hecate picks up the thread, stomach tightening as she condemns the very power structure that she’s hung her life’s beliefs on. “To be neutral is to be complacent. To be complacent is to condemn those who we share our world with to terrorization and grave danger. Make no mistake, the very fabric of the world - magical and non-magical - has shifted. Ada and I believe that unless we resist, we too bear the responsibility for the fates of those who have lost life and freedom in this new world order.”

“We mean to fight.” Ada surmises, steadying her gaze across the table at the others.

There’s silence. Utter silence. Hecate tries to swallow and finds she can’t.

“Oh, well done.” Miss Bat claps, her knobby hands coming together enthusiastically, her eyes very bright. “Well done indeed.”

Ada blinks. “So - so you’re not - your not opposed?”

“‘Bout time you joined us,” Dimity clasps her hands behind her head and leans back in her chair grinning at them.

“ _Joined?”_

Dimity continues to look both delighted and amused and Miss Bat tuts a little. “What Dimity is _trying_ to say is that it’s rather a relief to not have to conceal our efforts towards the war from you any longer.”

“We weren’t sure where you stood in relation to defying The Great Wizard,” Algernon tugs on his beard, his eyes wide with apology.

“And we certainly didn’t want to defy you both or put you in a position where you had to worry about putting the girls at risk of social upset.”  Dimity eyes them, as though giving them an out, should they need one.

“You’ve been working for the Resistance?” Ada voices, echoing the shock that Hecate feels.

The three of them nod.

“How long?”

Miss Bat waves a gnarled hand. “My dear, when you’re as old as I am, you’ve seen your share of wars. After the last one, we all swore never again. Great Wizard - pffft - never mind anyone who calls themselves _Great_ but does nothing when the world needs us to do _something_. Algernon has been working with the medi-witches on relief efforts and I send healing spells disguised as chanting records. And Dimity here, well, there’s more than a few reasons why she’s so good at making friends in town. She’s helping with food distribution and moral.”

“My da died in the first war. I was eight.” Dimity crosses her arms and Hecate marvels over how little she knows about the younger woman, how she never thought to ask about her family.

“I’ve made a few contacts myself,” Ada admits, shifting in her chair as Hecate’s head whips around to stare at her.

Ada shrugs, “I was approached! It’s a matter of intelligence, not much to share at this point. And it was a relief to speak with officials about Agatha’s involvement.”

Hecate opens her mouth, closes it, then tries again once her thoughts have shuffled back into a semblance of order. “As a whole, I believe we should use our skills as witches to strategize how best to remove your sister as a threat. Both to yourself and to this nation.”

“Here, here,” Miss Bat claps again.

Ada sighs and nods sadly. “Yes, I do agree. The sooner she’s captured, the better I will sleep at night.”

“We all will,” Dimity agrees, pushing back her chair and, standing, summons up a chalkboard. “Now, here’s what we know about the Magical Resistance -”

______

A little less than their first month in residence at Nightstyx, lessons resume and Mildred Hubble inaugurates their first day back in the classrooms by accidentally turning Miss Bat into a floral arrangement of exotic toadstools. 

Hecate is alerted to the incident by the amount of laughter coming from the Second Form chanting room. When she appears from thin air, it’s to find the girls in hysterics and Mildred near tears. Miss Bat is recovered with a snap of her finger and Mildred removed to her office for disciplinary measures.

“I didn’t mean to, I swear.” Mildred slumps in the chair before Hecate’s desk and twists a braid around her fingers. “I thought I was getting better. But I’m not.”

Hecate opens her mouth but Mildred interrupts. “You needed remind me that I’m the worst witch here. I already know."

Mouth snapping closed again, Hecate eyes her. “Worst witch, Mildred Hubble? Unprincipled, certainly. But there is no need for dramatics.”

Mildred slumps further.

“Wherever did you get such an idea.”

Scuffing the toe of her boot against the floor Mildred fidgets. “Just know so. I don’t know half as much as other girls. I don’t come from the right background. I make mistakes _all_ the time -”

Hecate sniffs again, more sharply, and Mildred stills, glancing at her uncertainty.

“I was just recalling the incident with the Syrup of Slug.”

“I got an ‘F.’” Mildred’s face is turning red and Hecate holds her gaze.

“You did. You also emptied your cauldron and tried again. And got it right. You learned.”

A small line forms between Mildred’s eyes as she stares up at her. “But everyone else passed the first time.”

“Discipline, Mildred Hubble. And a want to learn. A desire to better oneself. All are admirable qualities for a witch.”

“But what if I’m not really a witch?” Mildred’s voice is very, very small.

Hecate surveys the girl before her, nudging down her frustration. “Do you believe anyone can perform magic?”

Mildred shrugs.

“Do you believe it is mere belief that allows you to perform magic? That anyone could should be able if they believe enough?”

Mildred looks up, once again uncertain. “I never thought about it.”

“They cannot.” Hecate rises and selects a book from the shelf behind her. Her collection of duplicated library books had been one of the first tasks she’d set about in making her chambers feel more inhabitable. She returns to her seat and crooks a finger so that the pages flutter open to the one she desires.

Satisfied, she slides the book across the desk to Mildred.

“There. Read carefully. Magic is something one is born with, Mildred Hubble, not something one develops through mere caprice.”

She watches as Mildred’s eyes move back and forth across the page and sits back in relief as the line between Mildred’s eyebrows begins to smooth.

Finally Mildred looks up, eyes bright. “That’s what the lady in the basement told me. But I thought it was just one of Enid’s conjurings to make me feel better.”

“Basement?” Cold washes over her and Hecate stands abruptly. She crosses around the desk and towers over Mildred who shrinks before her.

“I - I  - I know we’re not supposed to go down there but after Ethel called me the Worst Witch she shoved me and I fell against a door that leads down there. I was upset - I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry, Miss Hardbroom.”

“Woman?” It’s all she can think to say. Images flickering behind her eyes. A woman with dark hair streaked with silver. Hard, blue eyes. A cruelness about her mouth - that basement - _Pippa_ \- that _basement_.

Mildred is looking at her, concern pushing through the fear on her face and Hecate realizes her hands are trembling.

“Miss Hardbroom?”

She swallows and tries not to think of the rumors of ghosts. Knows it’s foolish and that Broomhead is long gone, long imprisoned, long dead. Still, she can’t stop the fear and revulsion that twists her stomach at the thought of Mildred Hubble in Broomhead’s clutches. She swallows once more and steadies herself.

“You must show me, Mildred. You must show me exactly what you saw.”

______

The further underground they venture, the colder it gets. It’s familiar. The descent. The cold. The dread.

The terrible, terrible dread.

It’s not that she believes in ghosts. She never has. Never will. It’s just the further they descend the faster and more vivid are her memories. Darkness, and spells, and pain as she’s made to bend to her former headmistress’s will. To stand in the gloom of the basement with magic twisting around her. Hot fire through her skin at any resistance.

It had been too much. She’d wanted to escape.

And Pippa. Pippa had _said_ -

Her thoughts break suddenly as they reach the bottom step and the stairwell gives way to unfamiliar surroundings. She blinks. Then blinks again.

It’s not as she remembers.

Nor is it an illusion. She throws out a hand and feels the air for enchantment but comes away finding none.

There is a thin thread of magic that does extend from the back of the dark, vaulted chamber they’ve happened upon. But it’s not the dank, close quarters of her childhood. No, instead the room is cavernous and Mildred’s footsteps echo as she peeks around from behind her.

“Just there.” She points. “The lady was just there.”

Hecate peers down at Mildred. “Is this meant to be a joke?”

Mildred shakes her head, plaits flapping. “No, Miss Hardbroom. I swear, she was there.”

“And the room, it looked just as it does now?”

Mildred looks bemused and nods. “Yes?”

Apprehension crawls across her skin and she moves cautiously forward, following the magic only to come up short as Mildred nearly treds on her heels.

“Mildred Hubble. I think it best if you return upstairs.”

“But I wasn’t making it up, I swear she was -”

“Upstairs, Mildred, now.” The magic thread is vibrating, gathering energy.

When Mildred doesn’t move she softens slightly. “I do believe you, Mildred. However, this is no place for a young witch. There is magic at work here, of what variety I know not. Now, go upstairs.”

Mildred stares up at her looking stubborn but finally sighs. “Alright. But be careful, Miss Hardbroom.”

She shuffles off towards the stair and Hecate waits until the sound of her footsteps on the stone fade before she releases a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

“I am always _careful_ , Mildred Hubble.”

The magic begins to hum around her and she moves forward, cautiously poised to defend herself should the source prove to be a threat.

When it comes, she is caught entirely so off guard that not even her own reflexes are quick enough to react to the two women who appear on either side of her.

They are dressed in uniforms with smart skirts and neat hats on perfectly coiffed victory rolls. The apparitions are so out of place in the dark gloom of this already unexpected underground cavern that, when they clamp their hands around her arms and begin to march with her, whatever spark of a spell she had prepared fizzles in shock as she’s unceremoniously dragged forward.

A cleft of light has appeared in the rough hewn wall just to the right of her and the wall splits further as they approach, the light and magic both blinding.

It’s warm though. Warm, and familiar, and she finds herself desperate to know what’s beyond it.  She should fight back or call for aid but she’s too stunned to summon her magic and can only stare in transfixed bewilderment as she’s marshaled on.

She stumbles a bit as they squeeze their way through the fissure of the rock wall, and the hands on her arms jerk her upright as the light pierces her eyes. It’s so bright it overwhelms her senses and almost makes her ears seem as though they are ringing - or no - maybe that’s the magic ringing. Lots and lots of magic -

All at once brightness and the ringing stop abruptly, as do her captors. She stumbles a bit again and when she regains her balance she finds she’s in an unfamiliar, but very cozy, library.

A woman in a long red robe lounges on a nearby chaise reading a newspaper.

“Hello, Hecate.”

The lights go out.


	6. Chapter VI: The Queen of Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mildred, who hasn’t hasn’t completely betrayed her, backs her up by describing _'the most beautiful woman in a lovely pink dress,'_ that fits Pippa’s description perfectly enough to be credible. And Hecate’s doubly glad that Mildred hadn’t happened upon Pippa in _that robe,_ as it had left very little to the imagination.
> 
> Not that Hecate is imagining.
> 
> She absolutely, very certainly, is not imagining apparitions of Pippa Pentangle. Let alone _disrobing_ Pippa Pentangle.
> 
> Pinching the bridge of her nose she takes the cup of tea offered to her by Ada, sputtering when it’s filled with something much stronger.
> 
> “Dimity’s made new friends to barter with down in the village,” Ada says by way of apology, and tops off her glass again with a dark bottle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> reminder: i cannot be trusted. plz don't kill me?
> 
> i'm super, super excited to start sharing this part of the story. oh my god.

**Location Unknown, 1940**

When she comes to, she finds that she’s been relocated to the chaise and Pippa is leaning over her, concern etched across her features.

“Hecate, thank goodness. You gave me quite a fright.”

 _I gave you quite a fright?_ Her throat isn’t working properly. She wonders if she’s dreaming.

Wonders if Mildred Hubble lead her down into the darkness of a basement where she’s seen too many horrors and she went mad as a result.

Pippa Pentangle.

Warm, and near, and smelling of roses as she leans over her. And fussing with the pillow under her head.

_Pippa Pentangle._

“Who are you?” Her voice sounds rough and Pippa draws back looking confused.

“Surely you haven’t forgotten me, Hiccup?” Pippa sounds awfully sad and Hecate sits up, head pounding.

“Pippa Pentangle disappeared years ago. During the last war. They said she was working for the war effort. They called her a hero. And then she was gone. Some say she eloped. Some say she was killed. They never found a body -”

Hecate shakes her head, the old grief too much for her, then jerks when Pippa takes her hand in her own. Her fingers are warm and Hecate stares at where they entwine with her own.

“Eloped? Oh I like that. Sounds romantic. And more than just a little mysterious.”

Hecate raises her eyes and stares at her instead.

“This is a dream.”

Pippa squeezes her fingers. “No.”

“Then I’ve gone mad.”

“We’re all a little mad at this point in life, Hiccup.”

When Hecate can only gape at her, Pippa sighs.

“I am real, you know. You haven’t hit your head, or been corrupted by a spell. You’re not dreaming.” Her thumb brushes across the back of Hecate’s hand and Hecate momentarily forgets how to breathe. “You really oughtn’t be here though.”

“Here? _Where_ is here, Pippa?” Hecate breaks their gaze and looks around at the shiny wooden bookshelves and and well upholstered chairs. The room is well appointed, rich and lovely with Pippa in her thin robe and books piled on the site tables, newspapers and writing instruments on the burnished desk. It’s all warm tones and soft edges and and very much a _home_ in a way that Hecate has forgotten she used to imagine for herself. For the two of them.

She jerks away and tries to stand, only to be hit by a wave of dizziness. Spots flicker before her eyes and Pippa presses her gently back down against the pillows.

“I’m sorry.” Pippa’s voice is jagged and Hecate blinks back the dots and unwanted tears, not knowing why Pippa sounds so regretful. “You _really_ oughtn’t be here.”

“You keep saying that,” Hecate snaps, sucking in air and trying to straighten once more. It’s a little better this time and she manages to at least sit upright without the world tilting. “Yet you fail to answer my question about _where here is._  And for Merlin’s sake Pippa, twenty years since you went missing, and you’ve been living in luxury this whole time. Digging portals to places you have no business being by the looks of it. No concern for the magical repercussions - no concern for those who might be _worried_ about you -”

Pippa stiffens, her hands pulling away from Hecate as though burned. “As I recall,” she says cooly, eyes going hard, “it was _you_ who decided you didn’t want anything further to do with me. It was _you_ who -”

“Please don’t,” Hecate gasps, unable to face Pippa saying it aloud. “Please, Pippa, I can’t - ”

Pippa, always kinder than she’s ever deserved, hushes her. Brings gentle fingers up and smoothes them down her arms, a familiar gesture that has always calmed her, even in her blackest moments of panic. It works, even after all these years, though Hecate feels shame bloom in her chest at her own cowardice.

“Please promise you will try to understand,” Pippa whispers, and her eyes come up and look over Hecate’s shoulder. Hecate startles when she realizes that the two uniformed women are standing guard just behind them.

The guards are watching them carefully and Hecate says slowly, fear climbing its way up her spine. “Pippa, are you a prisoner?”

Pippa laughs.

Looks at Hecate, fondness in her gaze and laughs again. “Oh, Hiccup.” She reached out and takes Hecate’s hand again. “This is my house. This is where I live.”

Hecate shakes her head, feeling stupid. “I don’t understand.”

“Don’t you?”

Heart hammering, Hecate turns to the guards. “Where am I?”

Pippa glances at the guards. “I think it’s best if we tell her.”

The guards step forward until they’re framing Pippa and the the redheaded one suddenly grins. “This is Hades, Ma’am. You’re talking to The Queen of Hell.”

For a moment she wants to laugh, but just as quickly all the sound goes out of the room and she can only focus on breathing as the dark spots continue to crowd her vision.

“Pippa?”

“I’m here.”

And she is. Warm and present beside her.  

Slowly, Hecate raises her eyes up until they lock with Pippa’s.

“There were rumors. After the last war.” Hecate swallows, a sucking sensation deep in her chest. There were rumors. Rumors she’d once scoffed at. Rumors that the last war only ended because Death took a wife. That he had been sated in other ways, carnal ways, so much so that he forgot to be hungry for the dead.

 _The Queen of Hell_.

It’s a phrase people whisper a lot these days, those who subscribe to such silly nonsense. She recalls the headline of the gossip section of a paper she’d seen on Miss Bat’s chair in the staffroom recently _\- Hades and_ _The Queen of Hell: War on the Homefront_ \- and had then rolled her eyes at the persistence of applying allegories of marital discord to explain away the world’s decent once more into violence.

But Pippa doesn’t say anything, only continues to look at her.

“Pippa?” Horror mounting, Hecate presses on, “Pippa, there is no such thing as Hades - ”

Pippa merely closes her eyes and shakes her head. She suddenly looks so tired and Hecate swallows down bile, stomach turning unpleasantly.  

“Oh.”

Pippa frowns a little and when she opens her eyes there’s an expression held within then that Hecate cannot read.

“You’re upset with me.”

“Upset?” Now Hecate's the one to shake her head. “I -“ she swallows unsure of how to voice the fear and heartbreak that war within her. “No. I just wish it didn’t have to be you.”

There is a knock at the door and the guards retreat, speak quietly with whoever stands beyond as Pippa stiffens, eyes on the door. The conversation ends and the guards turn back, closing the door firmly.

“It’s almost time, ma’am.”

“ _Ma’am_?”

Hecate stares at Pippa who grimaces.

She turns back to Hecate and sighs, crossing her arms as she looks over at her. Hecate swallows, trying not to let her eyes dip down to the way bodice of the nearly sheer red robe rests against Pippa’s pale skin. She’s just as beautiful thirty years on as she was at seventeen and Hecate feels longing blooming in her like a the poisonous purple blossoms of a nightshade flower.

“You left me,” Pippa says quietly.

Hecate shakes her head, at a loss, but forces herself not to look away. Something heavy hangs in the air between them. There’s so much she wishes she could say, but it’s too much. It’s all too much. And she tries, tries or corral her thoughts into apologizes she’s longed to make for thirty years, pleading into her pillow in the black of night, kneeling beside the bed in regret-wracked near illness. There’s not a simple sentence that will ever be enough, she realizes. But then again, she long ago thought she’d never again have the opportunity to at the very least try.

One of the uniformed women coughs from just behind them and Pippa’s eyes shut again, only for a moment. When she opens them, something in her gaze that has Hecate’s breath catching in her chest.

“I have to go,” Pippa whispers. “I’ll be back before morning - will you stay? Can you wait for me?”

Eyes smarting Hecate nods. Let’s Pippa uncurl her fingers from around her own and wills herself not to cry as Pippa gently places Hecate’s hand back in her own lap.

“Stay. Please.”

They share a look.

And then Pippa is up and across the room, the guards at her back. And then she is gone.

______

Once she goes, the guards go with her. And Hecate knows that the library door will be locked. Doesn’t know how she knows. Only knows it enough not to even try.

Still, she also knows Pippa - still knows Pippa - and sure enough when she approaches the wall across from the the chaise, it grows bright white.

She could leave if she wanted to.

But she won’t.

Not this time.

She can still feel where Pippa’s fingers pressed warmly against her own.

Plays Pippa asking her to stay in her head. Plays it louder over memories of Pippa asking her to stay once before, years and years ago.

_Pippa’s tear streaked face. Her hand on Hecate’s wrist. The desperation in her eyes._

Hecate digs her fingernails into her knee until the pain releases her from the bleak fog that threatens to immobilize her mind and rises.

The library is full of books. Books on magic. On gardening. On fashion.

Books on death.

Hecate grimaces and moves to the window. Outside there is only blackness, impenetrable and opaque. Shivering, she turns away.

It’s preposterous, she thinks. Pippa the Queen of Hell. Pippa and Hades.

But Pippa always was the prettiest. The smartest. The best of anyone Hecate has ever met. Will ever meet. It stands to reason that if Gods do exist, one would fall for Pippa.

Grief rises in her like a wave once more and she returns to the chaise, cradling her head in her hands in private mourning. When she’s collected herself, she notices the newspaper discarded on the floor. Pippa must have dropped it when Hecate unceremoniously passed out on her doorstep.

 _Doorstep?_   Hecate muses, retrieving the paper. _Portal?_ _Vortex?_

She refolds the paper and doesn’t bother reading it.

She’s found what she’s been looking for.

Pippa.

Alive and well. After all these years.

Well, at least Hecate thinks she’s alive. She should really ask. And as for well, _well-off_ might be a better phrase. She settles on the lavish tapestry of the chaise and summons over a book on botanicals that has caught her eye.

At least her magic seems to work here.

 _Where ever here - Hades - actually is_.

Hours pass, must pass. Outside it remains dark.

Hecate’s nearly asleep when Pippa returns. She is alone and her eyes are red, her nose raw. Hecate jerks upright, book sliding off her chest and onto the floor when she enters.

“Pippa.”

She can’t move but stares transfixed as Pippa comes to her. Slides onto the chaise beside her and Hecate, despite herself, reaches for her and takes her hands.

“What’s happened. What is it?”

Pippa shakes her head and grips Hecate’s more tightly.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” She looks beseechingly at Hecate and Hecate’s heart curls up in her chest with emotion. She opens her mouth but Pippa tugs Hecate until both her hands are clasped between her own. “Please, _please_ don’t ask me.”

“I’m just...” she trails off, at a loss. “Worried about you.”

“About me?” Pippa’s smile is like the sun coming out and Hecate nearly trembles with relief from it. “Oughtn’t I be the one who is worried about you?”

“Me?”

“You’ve come back to Nightstyx. Hecate - _why_? It’s the last place I ever thought to find you would be in this basement.”

Hecate freezes and Pippa gently brings a hand up and touches Hecate’s cheek. “Hecate?”

“Are you dead?”

It comes out as a whisper, too loud in the suddenly quiet room.

Pippa jerks her hand away and stands, pacing up and down. The nearly sheer robe catches the air as she turns to and fro and Hecate longs to catch her up and hold her still. “I don’t think so?” She laughs a little wildly and scrubs her hands across her face. “I think we all might be a little dead.”

“As well as a little mad?” Hecate says dryly, relief chasing through her.

“Yes,” Pippa sighs, returning to Hecate’s side. “And that.”

“The war makes me feel like both, sometimes,” Hecate admits.

Pippa takes up her hand again. “I know, Hiccup. I know.”

Hecate studies her and realizes she must know. That Pippa must know more than most.

“I’m sorry, I - I have so much to apologize for - ”

“Shhh, it’s alright now. Never mind all that.” Pippa soothes her and Hecate eyes prick at Pippa’s ability, somehow, to forgive. She sternly tells herself that it’s a great deal more than she deserves.

“Tell me about yourself, Hiccup. Tell me everything. Where you went after - _after_. What you’ve been doing all these years. Last I heard you were studying for a doctorate in potions? Tell me why you’re here now, why you’ve come back at Nightstyx?”

And though Hecate wants to ask more about Pippa, she knows she has no right. That she forwent that right when she left Pippa all those years ago. And so instead she does as Pippa wishes, finds herself aching to do anything that Pippa wishes, anything to make up for the guilt that chases through her like a continuous shiver.

But there’s more to it than that, she realizes. For something about merely being by Pippa’s side makes her soften in a way she never has been able to around anyone else - as if  it’s an intrinsic response within her - and she settles shoulder to shoulder with her on on a chaise in _wherever here is_ and begins to tell Pippa about her studies. About working in apothecaries before realizing her true passion lay in teaching. Talks to her about that - about her students and her lesson plans and her frustrations and her triumphs. Tells her about Cackle’s and about Ada and about Agatha and -

“Mildred Hubble.” Pippa smiles up at her from where she stretches out next to her. She’s watched her intently throughout the duration of her monologue, a kind of hunger across her face, as though she’s desperate for Hecate’s every word. “That girl is an absolute delight, Hecate. Though I’m very sorry to hear she’s been bullied so badly.”

Hecate winces. Presses her tongue to the roof of her mouth. Bites her lip and looks down at Pippa.

She starts talking before she realizes she should hold back. Tells Pippa all her fears about the girl getting hurt, of not being able to protect her from the barbs and digs of the Ethel Hallows of the witching world. Confides in Pippa all her fears of being too hard on her, of fearing she’s not being hard enough.

Again Pippa listens and when Hecate finishes there’s a smile just tugging up at the corners of her mouth.

“Oh, you are an old softy. I always knew it, Hecate Hardbroom.”

Hecate stiffens. “Am not,” she sniffs.

“You are.” Pippa looks at her, eyes shining and Hecate wants to kiss her before she stops herself and realizes Pippa’s someone else’s wife.  

“I should go.” She doesn’t want to.

But there’s the school and the girls and she’s been gone Merlin knows how long already. And if she stays any longer she might _just_ kiss Pippa. And she cannot afford to have the God of Death inflict his ire upon her. Not during such delicate times.

Pippa nods and they rise together, Hecate stepping regretfully towards where she knows the crack in the wall will be.

“I’m sorry about the bombs. And about Agatha and Cackle’s. That you’ve had to come back to this place.”

“The Gates of Hell,” It’s meant to be a joke, but she freezes once it’s out of her mouth.

“Well,” Pippa sighs, “our propaganda team really did a good job on launching that rumor. It does tend to keep _most people_ out.”

Still staring, Hecate tries to brace herself up. “I’m not most people.”

She aims for haughtiness to mask her shock, but Pippa’s eyes go all warm and a little wet. She leans in and kisses Hecate softly, oh so softly, on the cheek. “No, you are not most people.”

They stand, simply looking at each other, until Hecate breaks away and blushes, clearing her throat.  “I’ll make sure none of our girls come down here again.”

Pippa laughs. “I dare say you won’t be able to keep out Mildred Hubble.”

Hecate lifts her eyes to the ceiling. “Promise me you won’t take her to the afterlife or feed her to a three-headed dog.” She peers at Pippa. “You haven’t a three-headed dog, have you?”

Pippa casts her a look and squeezes her just above the elbow. “We haven’t.”

“Oh.”

“Hiccup?” Pippa’s standing very close.

“Hmmm?”

“Will you come back and see me sometime? Nights are - well - nights are not a good time. But in the evening, before midnight? After supper?”

Hecate nods before her brain can catch up and convince her it’s not a good idea. Pippa still has a hand on her arm and her thumb is moving in tiny circles there which is terribly distracting.

“I will.”

Pippa releases her and steps back. The light grows brighter. And Hecate places the feeling of it in a way that she couldn’t earlier. Pippa’s magic. Warm. Light. Familiar to her as breathing.

By the time the light fades, she’s standing back in the basement cavern once again, her eyes taking a moment to adjust to the gloom.

When they do, it’s to Ada and Dimity and Mildred all staring at her.

Mildred tugs on a braid and looks sheepish while Ada looks concerned.

Dimity looks her over head to toe, hands on her hips.

“And just _where_ do you think you’ve been, _young lady_?”

Mildred stops looking sheepish and snickers.  

______

**Nightstyx Hall, 1940**

It takes quite a lot of time to convince Ada and Dimity that she’s not falling into madness over the appearance of Pippa Pentangle.

Mildred, who hasn’t hasn’t completely betrayed her, backs her up by describing _the most beautiful woman in a lovely pink dress_ , that fits Pippa’s description perfectly enough to be credible. And Hecate’s doubly glad that Mildred hadn’t happened upon Pippa in _that robe_ , as it had left very little to the imagination.

Not that Hecate is imagining.

She absolutely, very certainly, is not imagining apparitions of Pippa Pentangle. Let alone _disrobing_ Pippa Pentangle.

Pinching the bridge of her nose she takes the cup of tea offered to her by Ada, sputtering when it’s filled with something much stronger.

“Dimity’s made new friends to barter with down in the village,” Ada says by way of apology, and tops off her glass again with a dark bottle.

Dimity bounces on the balls of her feet and looks pleased. “Traded those fast growing squash we planted our first night here for that.” At Hecate’s scowl she waves an impatient hand. “Oh, don’t worry, they grew back practically overnight thanks to that handy spell of Algie’s. Plenty left for us.”

“And whiskey, too,” Ada sighs in delight. Mildred giggles again and Hecate eyes her.

“I think it’s time for bed, Mildred.”

“Oh, but -”

“None of your buts, bed.”

Hecate sets down her teacup and ushers Mildred out the door, watching her all the way down the hall and up the stairs, Mildred throwing reproachful looks back over her shoulder as she goes.

Once she’s closed the door, Ada presses the cup back into her hands. “Pippa Pentangle, Hecate. I suppose you would have found out about Hades in due time, but Pippa Pentangle? Last the girl was heard from was over twenty years ago.”

“Hades? Ada - you _knew_ \- ?”

Ada looks slightly abashed and twists her hands together. “I should have told you. I wanted to. But it seemed like rather a large thing to try to explain and they insisted that I be discreet. And who would have believed me, anyway. Though there were always _rumors_ of course -”

“So Hades _is_ in our basement?” Dimity looks stunned and impressed. “Well I never. Those rumors about this castle being the Gates of Hell are true then. And The Queen of Hell -”

“Must be Pippa Pentangle.” Ada concludes. Dimity and Ada share a look and Hecate wants to wake up from this terrible, terrible dream.

“Well, I never.” Dimity repeats.

“It won’t be dangerous - for the girls - I mean. I made them promise.”

Hecate shakes her head, wondering how any promise with The God of Death can seem trustworthy. But they’ve nowhere else to go, and she settles for taking a large sip of whiskey. It burns it’s way down her throat and she’s glad for the excuse to have eyes that smart as Ada says, “Pentangle must have been with Hades for years. It would explain so much.”

“Would it?” Hecate says dourly and Ada and Dimity glance at each other again.

Hecate sets the cup down and fiddles with it. There’s an anxious itch about her shoulder blades making her cagey and ill at ease and she nearly twitches, longing to be rid of the sensation.  

The door clicks and when she looks up, only Ada is left in the room. She sits across from Hecate and gently reaches out to still her hand where she raps her nails restlessly against the porcelain of the teacup.

“Hecate.”

Hecate stills and straightens, frowning at the way the whiskey makes her feel warm and sleepy. She thinks back to another warmth - one brought by Pippa’s lips against her cheek - and smiles to herself feeling quite mad.

“Hecate.”

Ada is looking at her with great concern.

“I know this can’t be easy for you. I didn’t want to say in front of Mildred or Dimity. I know the rumors about this school. I know the rumors about what was done to students here. I suspect you know better than most. That they weren’t just rumors.”

Cold fear sears through her, burning all traces of warmth from her body and she freezes. “It was a long time ago.”

“It was.” Ada concedes, but she’s still looking at Hecate. Her expression hovers near pity as well as concern and Hecate feels her shoulder blades rise up on her back feeling agitated and frightened. Ada must sense it too because she sighs and her expression fades into gentle worry.

“Pippa Pentangle was the one who alerted authorities to the goings on here, if I recall. I always imagined she had such a fascinating life - first her whistle blowing - and later - her disappearance.”

Hecate uncomfortably studies her hands.

“I asked you before if you knew the other girl - the one who went through such darkness during her time here. I fear that I was rather obtuse in my asking. “

Hecate can only shake her head, studying the swirling liquid within her cup.

“Hecate.”  Ada’s voice is kind and she forces herself to look up. To nod again. Only once.

Ada rises and is gone only a moment before she’s back with a fresh teacup. Steam curls from within and she presses it into Hecate’s hands.

Inside the tea is strong and hot, an indulgence, and Hecate closes her eyes and lets herself be soothed by the comfort that such a simple, ordinary thing brings.

“I shouldn’t have asked you to come back here. It was too much. And with Pentangle back as well, and the goings on below stairs -  Hecate - I’m sorry.”

But Hecate shakes her head again. Because _here_ is where Pippa is. Of all places. And after tonight she can no longer deny the years of longing in her heart, the decades of of regret and of grief.

For Pippa still feels like home.

Hecate should never have left her in the first place.

Should never have have asked her to be strong where Hecate could not.

A tear splashes down her face and into the teacup. Ada silently passes her a handkerchief and Hecate realizes it’s a testament to their years of friendship that they can sit like this together without Hecate twitching her fingers into the hasty retreat of a transfer.

“Pippa Pentangle never revealed which of other girls Broomhead had targeted,” Ada finally says slowly. “They examined her as part of the trial, she didn’t want to tell them about her own tribulations, but it was the only way to surface enough evidence to convict Wilhelmina Broomhead while still protecting the other girl.”

Even after all these years the name chills Hecate to her core and she takes a moment, sucking an air and grasping the teacup with such force she has to concentrate on relaxing least she break it.

“I should have spoken up the way she did. I wasn’t brave enough.”

Ada tuts. “I don’t think there’s anything less than brave about you, Hecate Hardbroom.”

Hecate shrugs. “I told them I was already eighteen. I didn’t consent to the examinations. I disappeared.”

She swallows and tries to explain, feeling desperate in a way that makes her stomach tighten with an old fear.

“When I was young, after my parents died, I didn’t have anyone. Except for Pippa. But I left her when she needed me most.”

Hecate closes her eyes. Tries not to think of Pippa laying still and cold on the stone floors below. Thinks of Pippa instead, alive and warm, beside her on the chaise.

“I don’t think Pippa blamed you for any of it, Hecate.” Ada says gently. “If that were the case, why would she go to such lengths to protect your identity?

Shrugging unhappily, Hecate retrieves her teacup and takes a fortifying gulp.

“It always was such a mystery, the fate of Pippa Pentangle.” Ada muses when Hecate is silent. “A war hero after all she did in the First War. Even the Ordinaries knew her name, just not the extent of all she did. She did so much for one so young - starting that orphan’s home - Pentangle’s. A fine institution. You well know we take several of their girls each year.”

Hecate nods and doesn’t mention the generous portion of her paycheck she sends each month to support the home. Has for years. She turns her head away from Ada and brushes at a tear that works its way down her cheek.

“And she was quite the celebrity, even after the trial that made her front page news. Glamorous. A beautiful girl. The Gossip rags were full up about her, weren’t they.” Ada continues, lost in remembering.

Hecate sniffs in what she hopes sounds like distaste.

“But when she disappeared, when was that? 1917? Year before the war ended - most thought she’d been killed. You always thought she married rich.”

Hecate laughs and it comes out harshly. “And look how things turned out.”

Ada looks troubled and replaces the now empty teacup once again with the one that holds the whiskey.

“A job like that. Queen of Hell. Dealing with Hades. I don’t envy her,” Ada sighs.

Hecate thinks of Pippa’s red rimmed eyes and sets down the teacup without taking a sip. Her stomach is suddenly roiling and Ada looks startled as she rises abruptly.  

“Hecate - ?”

“I fear I must bid you goodnight.”

“Hecate, wait - “

“Please, Ada. I wish to be alone.”

Ada looks at her and nods, concern still heavy in the line between her eyebrows as Hecate nods goodnight.

She transfers to her room and sits on her bed, back bowed in anguish as she lets herself fall.

Despite her words, she’s always knew there might come a day when she’d have to face the garish, sensationalized headline that, at last, Pippa Pentangle’s remains had been found. Long deteriorated in some bunker or battle field. A cold and muddy and violent marker of 1917 rising from the grave to reveal the truth of Pippa’s tragic end.  She’s pushed down, and down, and down against such fear until it’s fit into the smallest part of her heart. Contained, but always there.

She never considered that Pippa might have faced a fate worse than death.

She never considered that Pippa would grow up to be The Queen of Hell.


	7. Chapter VII: Death’s Wife

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Mildred, I think it’s time you retired upstairs.”
> 
> “But it’s only seven o’clock.”
> 
> “Then go to the library.”
> 
> “But Miss Hardbroom - !”
> 
> “The library, Mildred.”
> 
> “So many mysteries,” Mildred sighs, her head flopping back on her neck in exasperation. “So many mysteries and _none_ of them can be solved _in the library.”_
> 
> Hecate snaps her fingers and the girl winks out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I GOT TOO NERVOUS AND DECIDED TO POST THIS ONE TOO
> 
> I'M AN ANXIOUS MOTHER HEN. 
> 
> HONK. HONK.

**Nightstyx Hall, 1940**

The next morning the paper on her desk tells the grim tale of hundreds dead in London and the Coventry bombings the night before.

She thinks of Pippa returning with a tear streaked face and feels sick.

The feeling follows her throughout the day and she’s distracted and irritable throughout all of lessons. She snaps at Sybil Hallow and feels dreadful about it. By the time dinner comes she skips it and uses the empty castle as an excuse to slip back down the steps.

The same dread follows her from the night before, but this time it’s accompanied by anger and a thrill that she tries to dismiss over the thought of seeing Pippa again. But Pippa has wed herself to death, and her steps increase along with her outrage.

Below the floors of Nightstyx the basement remains transformed with it’s damp and dripping vaulted ceilings.  The women in army uniforms are waiting for her, but she pulls away as they try to clamp their hands around her arms and once more escort her.

She feels anger growing in her and stalks past them, not hesitating when the glowing light emerges, paying little heed to it as she slips through the crevice and into the library beyond.

Only it’s not a library.

It’s a dim little room filled with filing cabinets in drab grey. In the room’s center, a telegraph clatters out messages to an unmanned typewriter on battered desk. The room is lit only by the beam of a yellowing bulb that hangs above the desk and casts greenish shadows across the room.

Pippa is nowhere in sight.

The typewriter clacks to a stop and Hecate stares at it before the women take her elbows once more and attempt to steer her back out the way she came.

“She’s detained right now, Ma’am.”

“Best come back another time, Ma’am.”

Wrenching herself free, Hecate transfers herself across the room where an equally drab little door is ajar. Behind her the women gasp in surprise, but she ignores them, pushing the door until she can step through.

The hallway beyond is nicer than she expects. More akin to what she would have expected to find beyond the library. She peeks through a door and finds a drawing room. It’s appointed with the same care as the library had been the night before. Dust free and certainly a contrast to the room Hecate’s just passed through. She continues on, the itching sensation from the night before between her shoulder blades once more. There’s a dining room, with a long, empty table. A  silent ballroom, it’s chandelier dark and floor shining. She passes the library from the night before, followed by a music room. At the end of the hallway there is a closed door.

She can feel Pippa’s magic. It’s sweet and heady and she takes a breath, reaching out a hand for the knob. The moment before her fingers come grasp the bronze metal, there a sound behind the door.

It’s low and guttural and she freezes.

Suddenly she realizes how little she wants to hear this. How foolish it was for her to barge in unannounced.

The noise comes once more and Hecate backs away, hot fire in her belly as Pippa makes the sound again, it’s breathy and focused and it does something deep inside of Hecate. Something unwanted, something that makes her feel sick with desire and with jealousy all at once.

_You really oughtn’t be here._

Pippa’s words from the night before come to her.

She tries not to picture Pippa in that sheer red robe. Tries not to imagine it pooled on the ground like blood as the God of Death moves over her, as he presses her down and makes Pippa sound like _that_.

Slowly she backs away.

Pippa’s panting now, words unintelligible and muffled and Hecate nearly cries out, turning back when Pippa makes a sound so forlorn, so incredibly broken, and Hecate realizes that Pippa isn’t feeling any pleasure at all.

She’s in pain.

Pippa is on the other side of that door and she’s in _pain_.

She’s launched herself at the door before she can think, hand first on the knob that doesn’t turn, then fists on the wood panels which do not yield. She’s casting spells without consideration. They ricochet off the door frame as inside Pippa weeps, terrible, anguished noises that chill Hecate to her very soul.

The uniformed women catch up to her and their hands are back at her elbows. They draw her away with surprising strength, dragging her arching, resisting form down the hallways until she finds herself back in the dim little room, Pippa’s cries fading beneath her own.

 _Pippa_.

“Pippa!”

“You must collect yourself, Ma’am.”

“She cannot be disturbed. You must not come back tonight, Ma’am.”

“Pippa!”

“Ma’am! Collect yourself.”

They muscle her ever forward. “You must leave now.”

And Hecate finds herself suddenly on the other side of the wall. It fails to glow when she turns back towards it and she pounds on it until her firsts are raw, trying every spell she knows. When at last her strength is spent, she sags to the ground.

She sleeps with her back to the Gate of Hell, Pippa’s cries of pain echoing in her ears.

______

When she awakes, it’s to find Dimity standing over her, hands once again on her hips.

“This is not a good look on you, Hardbroom.”

Nevertheless she heaves Hecate to her feet, shuffling back and averting her eyes after, least Hecate follow her every instinct and turn her into a toad.

“Mildred Hubble reckoned I better come check down here when you missed both dinner last night and breakfast this morning.”

“ _Breakfast?_ ”

“Yes, breakfast.”

Hecate presses a hand to her forehead and winces.

“Listen, if Hades was suddenly a fixture in my basement and revealed my missing girlfriend I’d surely be -”

“ _Girlfriend_?”

“Yes, Girlfriend.”

Hecate tries to look as dignified as anyone who has spent the night sleeping on a damp basement floor possibly can. “I assure you, Miss Pentangle and I are not -”

“Ah, save it. And brace yourself for transfer -” They reappear in the staff room and Dimity points to some hot porridge laid out. There’s even a bit of honey on top.

“Algernon is covering your classes.”

“He’s _what?_ ”

“Eat the porridge. He won’t blow anything up. I think.”

Dimity grins at her and slide into the adjacent seat once she finally sits.

“I know a thing about pining over girls, see. Figured you could use some advice.”

“I’m not pinning.” The words jerk out of her one by one and Dimity snorts.

“Sure you’re not. You only read the paper everyday looking for -”

“Does everyone think that my interest in current events resolves around Miss Pentangle?”

“Yup. Pretty much. Eat, it’s getting cold.”

Huffing, Hecate begins to pick at the porridge which is quite good. Vaguely she wonders why Dimity went to the trouble. _Probably so she could be a right pain and feel she could get away with it._

“You should come out to town with me some time. Trick to getting over a girl is to get under -”

“Don’t say it.”

Hecate eyes her and Dimity grins again, looking entirely too cocky.

“Is that how you get such great deals when you go,” she air quotes, “bartering.’”

Dimity’s smile only widens. “And buses.”

“Dimity Drill.”

“ _What._ I’m charming. And I use it for good.”

“You’re incorrigible. That’s what.”

“Maybe I am.”

Hecate eats in silence to a moment before she realizes Dimity is giving her a sidelong look.

“Yes, _Miss_ Drill?”

“Are you really trying to get with the Queen of Hell?”

“Are you really trying my patience?”

Dimity smirks and rises. “I’ll leave you to your breakfast.”

She makes for the door and stops. “You never answered my question.”

Hecate resists the urge to throw her spoon at her.

_______

Although every fiber of her body urges her to return to the darkness below the castle, she can hardly bear the thought of standing helpless before a gate that will not let her pass. The porridge fortifies her enough for her for her to transfer to her rooms instead and use a shower spell before relieving Algernon. When she returns to the classrooms, she is neat and well ordered.

In truth, the familiar chatter of the girls calms her. It helps tune down the sound of Pippa in her head and she makes it through the day by providing as much distraction to herself as possible. She places Mildred in the front row of the lab and keeps an eagle eye on her, which results in a perfectly brewed Pepper Up Potion from Mildred, and at least some form of peace of mind for herself.

She forces herself to concentrate. To focus. It reminds her of the days after she left Pippa. After everything had gone so terribly wrong. How she had thrown herself into her work then. Had suppressed all feeling and emotion in order to keep her sanity.

And she feels as if she might just tilt into insanity if she think too much about Pippa in a marriage that makes her weep in anguish.

Hecate swallows and picks at her dinner, appetite disintegrating at the thought.

She tries to think of a way to save Pippa.

But she never has been able to before.

_______

**Nightstyx, 1905**

“She’s a vampire, that’s what she is.” Pippa paces beside Hecate’s bed and there’s no hiding the agitation in her tone. “It can’t go on like this, Hecate. It’s been years. Now she has you down there - what - three, sometimes four times a week? And each night you come back upstairs -”

“Pippa.” It’s weak and her voice shakes even getting the single world out.

Pippa stops her pacing and immediately comes to sit beside Hecate on the bed. “I know. I’m here.”

Hecate let’s Pippa take her hand and for a moment she just lets herself shake. Pippa places a her free hand on Hecate’s back and it warms her, comforting her as her body spasms and twitches as her own magic struggles against the magic Broomhead has left inside her skin.

“She’s experimenting on you.”

“She’s teaching me.”

“Hecate - “

“She says I’m powerful, that I only need to learn to control my magic -”

“She knows you’re powerful so she’s taking your magic for herself.”

Hecate weakly shakes her head. “I owe her. She brought me to Nightstyx. I never would have received an education otherwise.”

Pippa bends her head so her forehead rests against Hecate’s shoulder where she lies curled on the bed.

“You would have found a way. I’m sure of it. You would have read every book that passed through Birchwick’s. You would have gotten a library card - a different scholarship -”

“None of that would have been certain.”

Pippa’s quiet for a long time. “I know. I’m sorry.” Her breath puffs against Hecate’s arm. It sends an accompanying tingle through Hecate’s body and Hecate reaches up and brings a hand to brush against Pippa’s hair. Another tingle passes through her at the feel of the soft strands against her fingers.

It’s been happening more and more with Pippa lately. This slow and pulsing heat Hecate feels when they touch. She doesn’t know what it means, only knows that she doesn’t want it to stop. It cuts through Broomhead’s magic and makes her head feel both clearer and more fuzzy all at once.

“Don’t be.” She shifts so she’s on her back and pulls Pippa until she’s laying along her side, chin on Hecate’s chest just above her heart. Pippa peers up at her, all warm brown eyes, and Hecate’s fingers move of their own accord to stroke fallen strands of hair from Pippa’s face.

“I would do anything to stop her hurting you. It’s not fair that you only got to leave Birchwich and come here only to face this.”

“But you’re here,” Hecate mumbles.

“I don’t believe you need to lessons from her, Hiccup.” Pippa says softly. She flicks her fingers and makes a magic orbs pulses to life and weaves and dances above them. “You were always advanced. Powerful, too. But I know you better than anyone, and I’ve never seen you anything but absolute control and finesse when it comes to spell casting. If anything there’s an excess of control. You’re precious with your magic.”

Hecate smiles up at the light. One hand is still on Pippa’s hair and the other threaded between Pippa’s fingers. She moves her fingers within Pippa’s own until the light begins to blink in a slow and gentle wink.

“Unless you ask me to do magic tricks.”

“Which you always do. Because you know you're my favorite magic.” Pippa blushes and Hecate blushes too. They can’t look at each other for a moment before Pippa laughs, laying her head down on Hecate’s chest.

Hecate feels a warm sensation tug low within her. It fizzles along her skin and pushes all of Broomhead’s lingering magic from her system. When it’s gone, all that’s left is Pippa.

And for the first time ever, that scares her most of all.

_______

**Nightstyx Hall, 1940**

She thinks about how twice now she’s come to Nightstyx, and twice now she’s unexpectedly found Pippa, and twice now she’s lost her over the horrors held below the castle stairs.

After dinner she’s anxious and idle, unsure whether she wants to risk the wall not opening, half out her wits with anxiety to ensure Pippa is alright. She wastes time by dolling out detentions to several third years she finds sliding down the banisters. It’s much too early for bed and her feet lead her to the basement door despite the uncertainty that sits heavily in her stomach.

“Mildred Hubble.”

The girl jumps up from where she’s crouched peering through the keyhole and shuffles guiltily.

“I was just - “

“Just snooping, Mildred Hubble?”

“- curious.” Mildred finishes, cheeks pinking even further.

“The basement is off limits, now more than ever before.”

“Because of Hades?”

Mildred shrinks a bit as Hecate moves rapidly forward and looms over her.

“Where did you - “

“I hear things, sometimes,” Mildred scuffs the toe of her boot against the stone floor. “Miss Hardbroom.” she adds hastily.

“Spying at keyholes, _eavesdropping_ at keyholes -”

The door behind Mildred swings open to frame Pippa.

“Oh! Oh, hello there, Mildred.”

“Hello, Miss Pentangle.” Mildred beams up at her and Hecate stares at them. “This was the nice lady I saw,” Mildred adds when Hecate continues to look nonplussed. “Miss Pentangle, this is my teacher, Miss Hardbroom.”

“ _Miss_ Hardbroom?”

Pippa looks for all the world as if she’s trying not to laugh, and Hecate would pinch her if she weren’t so desperately worried about her.

“Well Met,” Pippa continues, eyes merry and Hecate huffs out a good bit of air which only makes Pippa smile a little more wickedly.

“Mildred, I think it’s time you retired upstairs.”

“But it’s only seven o’clock.”

“Then go to the library.”

“But Miss Hardbroom - !”

“The library, Mildred.”

“So many mysteries,” Mildred sighs, her head flopping back on her neck in exasperation. “So many mysteries and _none_ of them can be solved _in the library_.”

Hecate snaps her fingers and the girl winks out.

“Dramatics.”

“I rather enjoy her, darling. I wish you’d have let her stay.”

Hecate’s so caught off guard by Pippa’s endearment, that she can’t even resist as Pippa wraps a hand around her wrist and hauls her forward until the door swings shut and they’re quite in the dark on the landing of the basement steps.

They’re very close together, so close Hecate can feel every part of Pippa where they touch. She considers at least summoning an orb of light, but given the intimate nature of their present situation, doesn’t trust her shaking fingers not to make a fire out of it.

“Sorry,” Pippa whispers, fingers moving from Hecate’s wrist to find her hand. “I’m not supposed to be above ground really. I’m afraid I’m kept on a rather short leash.”

Hecate wants scream in frustration and grief.

Instead she lets Pippa entwine their fingers and lead her down the steps in the faint shimmer of her own light.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t meet you last night. Unfortunate timing. I can’t always predict when it is I'm going to be needed.”

Hecate squeezes her hand so hard that Pippa comes up short when they reach the bottom of the steps and turns to her.

“Hey, now.” She brings up their joined hand and strokes at the back of Hecate’s hand until it unclenches slightly. “Everything alright, Hiccup?”

Hecate can only shake her head. Because it’s not. It can’t be. Not when Pippa’s in this awful place subject to such awful things.

“No?” Pippa’s hand comes up and trails across Hecate’s cheek. She tucks a whisp of hair behind her ear and Hecate fights to hold back the emotions that threaten to surge from inside her and release themselves in bitter and heartbroken tears.

The dim glow of Pippa’s Light Spell and the soft glow that emanates from the fissure that once again splits the basement wall makes Pippa look particularly soft and extraordinary beautiful.

“I heard you last night,” she whispers and Pippa freezes.

“Oh.” Pippa pulls away, dropping her hands to wring them instead.

“Pippa - why must you do such things?”

Pippa’s eyes look very bright and she bites her lip. “Don’t know know why?”

Hecate shakes her head. “I can’t bear it. I can’t bear the thought of you down here, it’s not right. It’s not _proper_. Pippa, please -”

But Pippa’s expression is hardening. “I made a promise, Hecate.”

“A vow means nothing if you’re subject to such treatment. Hades does such horrible things, Pippa, how can you stand by and -”

“Don’t.” Pippa’s voice is sharp and there tears shine against her cheeks in the half light. “Don’t lecture me on standing _by_ , Hecate.”

She covers her mouth as soon as the words are out as Hecate flinches.

“I’m sorry - I didn’t mean -”

“No, I deserve it. After what I did surely Hades must seem the better alternative.” She laughs a little wildly and Pippa stares at her, hands still over her mouth.

“No, Hiccup,” she says, her voice muffled beneath her palms. “No.”

“I can’t stand by again and do _nothing_ this time. I can hardly live with myself after - after - Pippa, he’s  _hurting_ you.”

Pippa drops her hands.

“He?”

“He’s not good for you, Pippa. You deserve to be happy - you deserve to be _safe_ \- “

“Hecate - who is _he?_ ”

Hecate’s stomach cramps. She wants to reach for Pippa and steal her from this dark world. To ferry her away from all death, all horror, and bring her into the light.

“Hades. Your husband.”

Pippa laughs. Bright and filled with a mirth that catches Hecate off guard. The sound echoes through the cavern around them.

“Husband - ?”

Pippa steps forward and takes her hands.

“Hecate, I _am_ Hades.”

_____

**Nightstyx Hall, 1906**

“I want to leave,” Hecate whispers and Pippa brings the glass to her lips again, urging her to take a sip of water. She reaches to take it but her hand trembles too much and Pippa shushes her, guiding her through taking a drink before setting the glass aside and gazing at her intently.

“Then we will. We’ll run away. I’ve wanted to for a long time, Hiccup. This isn’t right, what Broomhead is doing to you. You’re not safe here.”

Hecate’s breath trips over her fear and she rests her forehead against her knees to stave off the black dots that crowd her vision.

“Tonight?” Her voice sounds so weak. The desperation to leave is nearly all consuming now that her limit has been reached. Now that she’s all but broken.

“Tonight.” Pippa assures, voice strong as she brushes Hecate’s sweaty hair away from her forehead. “We’ll leave tonight.”


	8. Chapter VIII: Hades

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We should go.” Her voice sounds hoarse and Pippa blinks a little.
> 
> “Yes,” she agrees, patting the watch into place before her fingers drop and catch up Hecate’s own instead. “Let’s go.”
> 
> “How sweet,” a voice comes from the darkness. “How utterly, pathetically, sweet.”
> 
> Broomhead steps from the shadows, teeth glinting, eyes glowing in the luminescence of the green-blue light.
> 
> “And just where is it,” she breathes, “that you think you are going?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lkjdlfdf;da;lfdjlkfdaf you guys are killing me. Now that I've shared the last chapter I'm trying to edit as quickly as possible to get the rest out. I had to up the chapters, currently I'm in chapter 15 and...well...there's a bit to go. you guys im so excited and gosh darn thrilled you like it. your comments are making my 2018. like...i'm aGLOW.

**Nightstyx Hall, 1940**

“You’re _what?"_

“Hades, Hiccup. Well, at least, the main part of it.”

Hecate sways on the spot.

“I don’t understand.”

“The Queen of Hell?” Pippa frowns at her. At Hecate’s baffled look Pippa looks increasingly confused herself. “Operations Hades - Hiccup - what on earth have you been thinking I’ve been getting up to. _Husband?_ Honestly -”

“Operation?” Hecate’s brain feels addled and she shakes her head to try to clear it. “Do you mean to tell me this is a _military_ operation?”

Pippa stares at her.  
  
“I thought you knew. The guards greeted you your first night down here. We made contact with Ada right after you arrived at Nightstyx - our people informed her that the castle was part of a covert intelligence -”

“Ada - “ Hecate gasps, then breaks off recalling everything Ada has said on the matter. And everything Dimity has said as well. The looks they had shared. She winces.

“The Queen of Hell?”

“My code name?” Pippa is looking at her in rising concern. “Hecate, what exactly have you been thinking was going on here?”

Hecate can hardly catch her breath as Pippa’s own words come to her.

_Our propaganda team really did a good job on launching that rumor. It does tend to keep most people out._

“The _Gates of Hell??_ ”

Suddenly uncomfortable, Pippa casts her eyes around the cavern. “Perhaps you better come in. I fear there’s been a terrible misunderstanding. I thought Ada would have told you.”

Pippa keeps her hold on her hand and guides her through the crevice in the wall and the warm, lush tones of the library greet them. It’s only then Hecate realizes that she’s shivering uncontrollably.

Pippa guides her back to the chaise and produces a blanket which she wraps around Hecate’s shoulders before settling beside her.

“Now, where did you get this silly notion that I had a _husband_?” She wrinkles her nose and all at once Hecate suddenly feels far too warm - not just from the heavy fabric now cocooned about her or the heat from the glowing fire in the grate.

She knows she’s blushing and can only stare down at her hands in chagrined embarrassment.

“Everyone said you’d wed,” she finally admits, shamefaced. “And everyone said that the God of Death had taken a wife and thus stopped the last war -”

Pippa’s mouth is half open in surprise and Hecate drops her gaze, fingers moving restlessly against the fringe of her blanket.

“You said this was Hades - they said that you were the Queen of Hell - ”

“ - so you thought I was married to - ” Pippa looking like she’s trying not to laugh again and Hecate bites down hard on the inside of her cheek as humiliation rushes through her. She shrugs off the blanket but Pippa darts a hand out to still her from rising.

“ - the God of Death.” Pippa finishes.

“Silly tales.” Hecate mumbles. “You must think me very foolish.”

“I don’t.”

It’s immediate. And Pippa’s gaze is unwavering. And so earnest that Hecate knows she’s sincere.

“How could you not?” Every conversation she’s had in the last twenty-four hours is cycling through her head and she feels more off-balance by the minute.

Pippa sighs and rewraps the blanket back around Hecate’s shoulders. “It’s this place. It’s coming back here. I hardly felt sane at all my first months.”

Her words bring Hecate back to the matter at hand and she shifts so she’s facing Pippa more fully. “Pippa, why here? Of all the places, I can’t understand it. Or what you are doing down here at all.”

“It’s thinnest here,” Pippa say by way of explanation and Hecate shakes her head in confusion. “Hecate, you do know I am the Queen of Hell, don’t you?”

“Yes, you said it’s your code name.”

Pippa’s forehead tightens. “You haven’t been reading the paper?”

“I read the paper every day.” She stiffens but grasps Pippa’s hand a bit more tightly, just to make sure of her.

“But not the paper of the Resistance.”

“There’s a paper for the Resistance?”

Pippa frowns more deeply. “Ada said you had plans to join,” she says slowly. “You can be trusted, can’t you? I felt sure that you knew - ”

“Only recently,” Hecate gasps, desperately trying to marshal her thoughts. The headline from Miss Bat’s gossip rag flashes before her eyes - _Hades and_ _The Queen of Hell: War on the Homefront_ \- and she sags feeling absurd in her obtuseness.

“I’ve been a bloody fool.”

“Darling, no.” Hecate once more shivers at the name and Pippa busies herself tucking the edges of Hecate’s blanket more tightly around her. “But you must swear that you will do what you can do protect this operation now that you do know. Ada spoke with the officers here - they felt your coming to Nightstyx provided us a perfect cover to operate under. We were rather unprotected before you lot turned up but it’s in our best interests to work together. We can protect you from Agatha, and you can protect us from anyone who comes nosing about who oughtn’t.”

Hecate feels a headache pulse to life behind her eyes and breathes in deeply through her nose. “I think you better explain more, I fear I’m far behind. What did you mean by thinnest?”

Pippa nervously glances at the unguarded doors. “Well, it’s how I do it.”

“Do what?”

She shakes her head, golden whisps of hair falling around her eyes. “Hades - before it was Hades - found me during the First War. Built this whole intelligence operation around me. Because of what I can do - because of what The Queen of Hell can do.”

At Hecate’s blank look Pippa presses her lips together.

“I can manipulate death. Sometimes.”

Hecate pushes away from her as though singed.

“ _Pippa_.”

“I’m very handy in times of war.” Pippa studies her fingers and Hecate thinks of the bombings over the previous months, of the death tolls, and feels hot, sick, anger course through her.

“You’re practicing dark magic? Here? In a school full of girls? In a country nearly brought to its knees by destruction and near starvation? How could you - _Pippa -_ how _could_ you - ”

Pippa’s on her feet, pacing before the fire in an instant. “Don’t tell me you’ve never cheated death,” she snaps and conjures a thin boy out of the air.

And Hecate gasps, watches a a bullet streaks through the air and hits him squarely in the chest.

She cries out and reaches for him, but the button on his jacket merely falls to the ground at his feet. He remains standing, a look of surprise on his face, and he fades from the air and Pippa stares down at her.

“It’s not dangerous to the girls, Hecate. I’m _trying to help_. And through the call me 'The God of Death' and 'The Queen of Hell,' is rather sensationalized when it comes down to what it actually looks like. It doesn’t mean that I like having to do what I can do. I’m little more than a tool, a military asset. Because I can feel it coming. I can _feel_ death coming. And I can try to stop it.” Tears pour down Pippa’s cheeks as she stands shaking before the fire and Hecate feels her anger leave her in a swoop. “But I _can’t_ always. I _can’t_. And sometimes I’m wrong. And the wrong people _die._  And I could have - I _should have_ \- done _more - ”_

She’s crying outright now and Hecate rises cautiously, approaches her as she weeps and trembles, and very slowly, very gently, takes her in her arms.

“Pippa.”

“I’m sorry,” Pippa cries, nose buried against Hecate’s neck like a long forgotten memory. “I’m so dreadfully, dreadfully sorry.”

Heart splintering, Hecate cups one hand against the back of Pippa’s head and splays the other across her back. It amazes her that after all this time touching Pippa is like being drawn close to her as if they were two magnets meeting as one. It feels so natural, so inevitable, whereas with all others in her life, even with Ada, it’s an unnecessary and uncomfortable interaction. Her own chest seizes with emotion and she whispers into Pippa’s hair “Don’t be. Please, don’t be. I should be the one - Pippa - I’m sorry.”

Together they sink back to the chaise, holding one another, and Pippa begins to quiet. Finally she pulls back and wipes at her eyes.

“How did you come to -” she can’t say it and Pippa chokes a bit on suppressing a sob.

“It started after what happened here. In this place.”

Hecate goes cold and Pippa clutches at her, holding her in place. “No, don’t run away again. I can’t bear for you to run away again.”

“It’s because of what happened that night.”

Pippa nods, tears still cutting down her cheeks in salty tracks.

“I thought you’d died.” Hecate whispers, and she can’t stop her fingers from reaching out to stay the tears. To assure herself in their warmth. She passes the thumb of her free hand over Pippa’s wrist and feels the fluttering beat there, as reassuring at the tick of the watch about her neck.

“I did die.”

Pippa looks at her. Sadly. So sadly, and Hecate freezes.

Feels the beat against her fingers even as all the air leaves her her lungs.

“Just for a moment.” Her eyes are desperately sorry and Hecate feels as if she’s lost her broom and is free falling through a cold, black night to earth.

“No. _No_.”

“It wasn’t your fault. Hiccup - you have to know that -”

“ _No_.” It comes out guttural. A repressed, strangled utterance as the horror from that night rises to meet her. She clings to Pippa, fingertips bruising, she’s sure, but too stricken to let her go.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Pippa repeats, crying once more in shaky gulps, her thumbs warm against Hecate’s cheeks as she tries to hold her steady. “It wasn’t you.”

“ _No_.” Hecate wants to rip at her own skin, her own lungs. She thrashes back until Pippa’s hands are dislodged but Pippa moves with her, grasping her wrists to hold her hands away from her own face.

“Hiccup. Hiccup, please,” she sounds very frightened and that more than anything cuts through Hecate’s grief. Pippa takes both her hands and places them over her heart. Hecate can feel it beating wildly as Pippa gasps for breath. “I’m right here, Hecate. I’m here.”

She presses her forehead against Hecate’s and they breath together until Pippa’s heartbeat steadies and becomes a guide for their breathing. They breathe as one until Hecate is calm and pulls back, fresh tears burning as they leak down her raw cheeks.

“I never meant for you to -”

“I know.” Pippa releases her hands and instead brushes her thumbs across Hecate’s cheeks again.

“I couldn’t face what I’d done -”

“You didn’t do anything, Hecate. It was all Broomhead.”

Hecate shakes her head.

“It was. Please, please believe me.”

“But look what it’s done to you,” Hecate whispers.

Pippa bites her lip. “I try to to think of it as a gift. I do some good, though the losses cancel out all feelings of success.” She shrugs. “But sometimes I save people. I try to remember that. When it gets to be too much.

Hecate tries not to remember Pippa’s agonized cries from the previous night and catches up her hands from where they still cup her face. She wants to kiss Pippa’s palms, but she hardly deserves to be in her presence at all.

“Hecate -”

She glances up.

“You’ve been blaming yourself. After everything you went though. You’ve carried that weight all this time. Hecate, is that why you ran?”

Hecate manages a strained and jerky nod.

Pippa draws in a shaky breath and ducks her head to meet Hecate’s gaze. “I never for a moment blamed you for that night. It never occurred for me to think like that. I was so _worried_ about you. But I always thought - I thought that you -” she breaks off and shakes her head, eyes dropping as her hands slide free of Hecate’s face to twist in her lap.

When she looks up again, her eyes are very wet.

“I can’t watch you walk away again, and if it’s too much for you to be reminded of, I need you to let me know now. Because I’ve missed you. Everyday, I’ve missed you. And I can’t face losing you again, not now. I can’t watch you be consumed by guilt you should never have had to feel. This thing - this thing that I can do - it takes everything I have.” She looks terribly uncertain and then whispers, “I could use a friend, if you would still consider me to be one.”

Hecate nods, heart banging out a desperate, broken tune within the aching cavern of her chest.

“Then I need to to stop blaming yourself. I need you to be here. If you want to be here - ?”

And she looks so tired that Hecate swallows, fingers tightening around Pippa’s, and nods again.

“Good.”

“It’s thinnest here because you died here.” Her voice sounds strangled and Pippa sucks in a breath.

“Yes. Something happened in those moments. And when I came back - “

Hecate hisses and turns away, but Pippa pulls her closer. “When I came back _to you_ , something was different. I couldn’t place it. And then everything that came to pass after - Broomhead’s trial - "

“My leaving,”

“Yes.” Pippa hesitates. “I just felt -” she pauses, as if considering. “Awfully tired. And sad. All the time. My parents tried to cheer me up with grand balls and courtships and more clothes than I had any right to own. And I thought I was the way I was just because I missed you. Desperately, if you must know. I thought I’d grow up out of it, in time. But then I felt it come for my parents - first my mother - then father a year later. Still, I thought it was one of those unexplainable things.”

“Pippa -”

Pippa shakes her head.  “Then I joined the war and shocked nearly everyone by doing so. I know what the papers said. They glorified me, but I felt I ought to help. I’d figured out enough by then on my own, and it was only getting worse. And I was _good_ at it. I could sense things before they happened. The Germans were flummoxed and the nation - ” she rolls her eyes, “- well, you know. The tabloids loved their little rich girl in a uniform." She laughs but there's little humor in it. "I got into a bit of a scrape though around 1917 and had to go underground.”

“ _Hades_ ,” Hecate breathes, recognizing the brilliance of it.

Pippa laughs. “You know I always loved a good bit of wordplay. _Underground_. Well - turns out there’s a military-magical faction of His Majesty's Armed Forces that had been keeping tabs on me. They got me to safety, and in exchange, I helped them with strategy. Made lots of enemies so stayed quiet once it was all over. Wasn’t much to public life I fancied returning to anyway. Hoped there’d never be another war though, never dreamed there would be.”

“I’m sorry.”

Pippa huffs out a breath. “Well, I made them promise this time they’d keep me out of the trenches so to speak and on the home front. I didn’t want anything to do with battle. But civilians,” she takes a shaky breath. “That’s something I can help with. I found that I’m most predictable operating out of Nightstyx. And it was well abandoned so we thought it would be covert. Didn’t expect a flock of girls in braids and their Deputy Head to drop on us though.”

Hecate winces but Pippa laughs. “Deputy Head. It suits you.”

Fighting a blush, Hecate looks around the room. “And this place you live?”

“I magicked my parents mansion and shoved it together with Hades HQ. Then crammed the whole lot down here. Cozy, isn’t it? But the rooms are prone to wandering.”

Hecate feels her eyebrows lift. “Pippa, that’s quite a feat of magic.”

Pippa grins, her red rimmed eyes crinkling up. “Is that a compliment?”

Blushing again, Hecate nods.

“I should go,” Pippa sighs. “Nights are busy just now - Blitz and all.”

Hecate wants to stay. Can hardly face having to leave Pippa but Pippa smiles at her as if she might know that already. “Will you come back? Tomorrow? We are neighbors now, you know.”

“I will.”

“Good.”

They rise and Pippa walks her back to the wall.

“Goodnight then,” Pippa breathes.

“Goodnight.”

They stand together for a beat, and then another, until finally Hecate drags her gaze away from Pippa’s face and she is lost in the brightness of the light.

______

**Nightstyx Hall, 1906**

“Careful, Pipsqueak,” Hecate hisses as they sneak through the dark hallways, brooms in one hand, a sac of their belongings in the other. “The top stair squeaks and we’re not of age to transfer yet.”

“Broomhead would catch us for certain if we even tried,” Pippa whispers back. “She has a habit of nosing out magic, that one.”

Hecate’s stomach flutters with nerves, but as she and Pippa creep down the staircase and the wooden door of the entry hall looms into view from behind a curtain of dark, she feels like freedom is nearly in their grasp.

She freezes and Pippa nearly bumps into her.

“Hiccup, what is it?”

Hand on her heart, Hecate looks at the door that leads to freedom before her eyes slide across the hall to the plain wooden door that leads to the basement.

“Hiccup?”

“My mother’s watch,” Hecate breathes. “Broomhead took it when I started here. She keeps it _down there_ , and whenever I won’t obey she says she’ll destroy it.”

Pippa makes a noise like an angry cat.

“Then we’ll fetch it.” She skirts around Hecate and begins to pick her way down the steps.

“Pippa - Pippa wait -”

Pippa turns on the stairs and looks up at her. “I’m not letting her have any hold on you. Not ever again. It’s the only thing you’ve got, Hecate. I won’t let her keep it from you.”

Moonlight falls from the high windows above across Pippa’s face in shadowy waves and Hecate wants to tell her that, no, the necklace isn’t all she’s got. There’s tightness in her throat and her eyes prick, and she follows as Pippa whips back around and continues down the steps.

The basement door creaks slightly once they’ve crossed the cold flagstone and have eased it open, and they freeze, listening to the silent castle around them before slipping inside. It’s dark, and Hecate dares not summon a light. Instead she leads the way, feeling the rough wall with one hand and guiding Pippa down behind her with the other.

Pippa’s hand is clammy in her own and Hecate chides herself for always forgetting that Pippa always puts on a face that’s far braver than she feels.

At the bottom, a dark, dank little room is lit only by the eerie glow of potions ingredients that hang suspended in a luminous ooze. They line the high shelves on the walls and Hecate crosses the sparsely appointed space in a few strides, tugging Pippa along behind her so that she trots to keep up.

“It’s in that box.”

“Up there?”

Pippa points to one of the shelves and Hecate nods. “I’ll get a chair.”

There’s only a few in the room, rickety and uncomfortable, and Hecate itches in being in this place once more. She hates seeing Pippa down here, no matter how many times she’s imagined her here beside her for comfort whenever Broomhead’s examinations became too much.

Pippa takes the chair and Hecate holds it steady, bracing Pippa’s legs with her other hand as Pippa clambers up and plucks the box from the shelf.

“Got it.” She tucks it under her arm and scrambles back down, opening it and pulling free the watch chain before depositing the box on the chair. “Here.”

Pippa gently guides the watch over Hecate’s head, easing it down and carefully pulling her braid free from the chain before tenderly adjusting the casing to hang evenly in the center of Hecate’s chest. Her fingers still, and for a moment she looks up at Hecate through her lashes.

There’s a charge in the air between them and Hecate’s heart beats faster the more seconds that pass. It’s as if the watch were her heart, as if Pippa were winding her fingers not just through the chain, but through time itself, slowing it down as she looks at her. There’s something in her gaze, a weighted promise and Hecate swallows, heat flaring at the base of her neck as she hardly dares to hope.

But she doesn’t want that moment here. Not when freedom is so close.

“We should go.” Her voice sounds hoarse and Pippa blinks a little.

“Yes,” she agrees, patting the watch into place before her fingers drop and catch up Hecate’s own instead. “Let’s go.”

“How sweet,” a voice comes from the darkness. “How utterly, pathetically, sweet.”

Broomhead steps from the shadows, teeth glinting, eyes glowing in the luminescence of the green-blue light.

“And just where is it,” she breathes, “that you think you are going?”


	9. Chapter IX: Resistance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Pippa.” It’s a gasp, the old pain building as she considers it. “There's a reason that I'm known to be a strict disciplinarian, some would say a fanatic for upholding the Code. Broomhead pushed against the laws of magic. And after that I had to - I had to -"
> 
> Pippa's eyes are very soft. "Make sure there were rules."
> 
> Hecate nods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3 <3 <3 <3 my heart is exploding. i'm worn out from all this excitement. the more i edit and post....the more i'm not spending time on finishing up the end of this fic. because truth is i'm really, really, really gonna miss writing it. 
> 
> ya'll are lovely. <3
> 
> edit: after i posted i realized that Utility clothing / CC41 wouldn't have come out until, duh, 1941. But, I think it's super interesting that the British government basically took over clothing manufacturing and most of the iconic styles we're used to from the era were designed as part of an austerity measure!

**Nightstyx Hall, 1940**

“Operation Hades,” Hecate hisses, appearing from the air before Ada’s desk and causing her to startle. “In our basement.”

Ada blinks up at her. “What about them?”

Hecate paces, her magic pulsing just below the surface of her skin. She twitches her fingers and a large plush armchair that’s blocking her path skitters out of the way.

“What did they say to you - how did they make themselves known?”

“Well,” Ada says, pushing her glasses up her nose and leaning back in her chair, “it was our very first night here. I settled into my chambers only to discover two uniformed military women standing over my bed, and beside them, an extremely no-nonsense looking high ranking official. I feared I was hallucinating given how awfully tired I was.  But then they said they were from the Department of Magical Wartime Affairs - a mix of both magical and non-magical defense.”

Hecate halts abruptly as her shoulders yank up at Ada’s words. “Magical and non-magical? Magical and Ordinary?”

“Yes, I had questions too. Well, after their initial interrogation as to why we’d come to the castle.”

“A magical military is the last thing this war needs.” She resumes her pacing. The armchair, having learned its lesson, scrabbles out of her way with her every unpredictable turn.

“I hardly would call it that. It’s a very covert faction of the Resistance. Hades focuses solely on defense - homeland defense, specifically. They’re very clear that magical efforts have no place in battlefield as a means of advancing the front lines. We learned that the hard way in the First War with those dastardly Lung Destruction Spells the Germans were so fond of last time. I believe that’s why The Great Wizard wants us to be neutral - the agreement with the German magical community is that we will both stay out of things this time, least we make things worse.”

Hecate halts again and turns towards Ada. “And Pippa Pentangle - The Queen of Hell - ?”

“Once they’d verified that we meant to be a part of the Resistance they did disclose The Queen of Hell was on the premises. I suppose it's not surprising, in the end, that it turned out to be Pippa Pentangle. And I do feel better knowing that there’s some hope to be alerted in advance and take precaution if it comes to pass that Agatha discerns our location and comes for us again.”

Sighing heavily, Hecate summons the armchair and drops down to sit stiffly on the seat’s edge across the desk from Ada. The chair lurches beneath her a bit in objection to the treatment it’s suffered at her hands, but she snaps briskly and it immediately falls still and docile once more. She settles back further and looks across the desk.

“There’s a newspaper. I ought to be reading it.”

Ada hesitates. “You do mean to be a part of it all then - to defy The Great Wizard?”

“I’ve made as much clear.”

Biting her lip, Ada leans in. “You have. It’s just your behavior has been very odd these past few days with every mention of Hades. I’m sure it’s the just re-emergence of Pippa Pentangle, but if it’s anything more - ”

“It’s not.”

Ada studies her an nods. “Alright then.” She waves a hand and a bundle of pages appears on the desk between them.

“Ada,” Hecate says very quietly, unable to look at her. Instead she studies her fingers which are curled tightly together in her lap. “I would like to do everything in my power do protect Operation Hades.”

When Ada is quiet, Hecate chances a glance up and Ada’s eyes are a little bright, and a little wet, and awfully warm.

“An admirable objective,” Ada smiles gently at her in a way Hecate isn’t quite sure she likes.

“I’m not entirely sure I buy that The Great Wizard has global interests in mind when demanding neutrality from magical folk.”

Ada leans in. “What makes you say that?”

Mouth dry, Hecate jerks her shoulders up. “Because until very recently global interests weren’t my objective when I supported the ban.”

“I see.” Ada steeples her fingers and regards Hecate over them. When she doesn’t say more, Hecate swallows and continues.

“I believed, until the start of this term, that withdrawing from the affairs of Ordinaries entirely was the best course of action. That they’d soon fight themselves into whatever trouble was necessary to resolve this conflict and that it mattered not what the cost was. I believed that Magical beings were above such petty battles, that our magic would keep us safe, that we needn’t trouble ourselves with a species bent on self-destruction.”

“What changed.”

Hecate pursues her lips. “Would you believe me if I said my own naïveté?”

Ada laughs. At Hecate’s sigh she conjures a tea set and pours them each a cup. “And Mildred Hubble had nothing to do with it.”

“Hardly.”

Ada sips her tea and smiles knowingly over the brim at her. “Oh, Hecate Hardbroom, you dear old bat. This world is more likely to land the right way on its feet with you on our side. Bravo.”

Ada reaches over and clicks her cup against Hecate’s, and Hecate promptly buried her nose in it least Ada spy the blush the fans out across her cheeks.

They sit together in companionable silence, the fire crackling merrily in the grate.

_______

**Nightstyx Hall, 1906**

“And just where is it,” Broomhead breathes, “that you think you are going?”

Hecate cowers but Pippa says in a clear, strong voice, “Away. We’re going away from this place, away from your magic, away from you.”

Broomhead hisses, stepping closer, and Pippa’s hand closes around Hecate’s, tugging her so she stands behind her. Pippa’s posture is defiant, shoulders square and chin held high as she stares Broomhead down.

“Foolish girl,” Broomhead breathes, “your parents have entrusted you to me -  do you think they care enough about you to support such a reckless act? And the Hardbroom girl is mine to do with what I wish. Your parents only need an heir. Only need you to be brought up in a respectable institution so that you can be married off to the richest Wizard they can find and breed a crop of children you will send here. To me. That is what is expected. That is what you will do.”

“No.” Pippa’s voice quivers a little and her hand tightens on Hecate’s. “This is not a respectable institution. But you're right. My parents do need me. Which is why I’ve written to them. I’ve told them that I’ll reveal my birthright to be a fraud, that I’m a just a poor, nameless orphan girl they plucked from the little better than the street if they don’t help. They care about reputation. I’ve told them I’m leaving. I told them what you do down here. And they’re sending help. You can’t keep us here. You can’t hurt Hecate. Help will be here, and you and this school will be finished. For good.”

Broomhead screeches and her hands move their the air like claws and suddenly Hecate feels a pull on her magic, tugging at her until she trips forward and stands trembling as Broomhead’s magic twists its way through her every cell.

“That may be, girl, but you’ve only saved yourself. Your little friend here is powerful. But not so powerful as I shall be - her magic is nearly mine now and I have no use for her after I possess it. And no help that they’ve sent will be enough to stop me.”

“No,” Hecate gasps, struggling as the oozing hook of Broomhead’s spells slides around her. “No.”

She’s fighting hard now, Pippa gazing at her in horror. Their hands still clasp tightly together and Hecate tries to focus on that. Just that. The warm, grounding feeling that Pippa’s nearness provides.

“You won’t have time,” Pippa hisses, squeezing Hecate’s hand. And Hecate can feel her feeding her own magic through the connection. “They’re very nearly here. I’d hoped we’d be well away by now but I couldn’t risk you coming after us. I took the precaution.”

Hecate has to marvel at Pippa, at her magic, warm and gentle, washing through her so Broomhead’s slicks away like oil over water, at her intuition and planning. She shudders, hot and cold all at once as her own magic tries to assert itself. She tries to wrap it around Pippa’s, find shelter and solace - just as Pippa once did all those frigid, lonely nights at Birchwick’s.

The effort nearly makes her knees buckle and Pippa edges closer. “It’s okay, Hecate,” Pippa breathes, lips hardly moving, “I’m right here.”

And Hecate, exhausted from years of fighting off Broomhead, from being pushed to the very brink, let’s go, lets her magic fully fall against Pippa’s. Pippa gasps a little, hand tight in her own, eyes still staring down Broomhead.

“Dratted girl,” Broomhead snarls. “Then I’ve no use for her.”

Broomhead’s hands jerk out, a spell flashing from her fingertips before either of them can react. It slams into Hecate with hurricane force and her body bows back even as the spell sucks at her heart, pulling her chest forward, the heavy watch fob suspended in the air before her. The surge of magic within her builds, pressure valve at capacity.

She ruptures, power rushing out of her, blasting its way around the room as Broomhead’s spell rushes through her every cell and busts through her hand, pouring through into Pippa who screams in pain, body jerking and twitching in the blue glow that flows through Hecate’s body into her own.

Hecate can’t let go, their hands stay locked as Pippa’s magic still binds them together. She tries to pull away, hears her own voice screaming as Broomhead’s voice rises, working the curse and Pippa body spasms. Hecate cries out, trying to work a Spell of Protection but her magic is too drained, to disabled, and Pippa only screams louder as Hecate’s magic speeds along Broomhead’s and burns within her. And Hecate can feel it - _feel it_ \- through it’s muted and distant. It’s an terrible, terrible agony, one such even she has never known at Broomhead’s hands.

Pippa’s magic twitches within her own, growing faint even as Hecate tries to pull away, to contain the spell within her own body, to shield Pippa from this - _this_ \- she never wanted this.

There’s a flash of light, white hot fire in Hecate’s blood, and Broomhead shouts - there’s more voices now in the blinding light, shouting spells and blue, green, golden shocks of light arc through the dark room as Broomhead’s magic abruptly leaves her and she falls forward, hard, onto her hands and knees.

Bruised and shocked, she coughs a bit in the sudden smoke. Pippa’s hand has slipped from hers in the chaos and she blinks rapidly, fingers trying to do what her blinded eyes cannot and find Pippa in the dark.

There’s a scuffing and her eyes adjust to see Broomhead contained in a red-gold glow, a crowd of magical law enforcement surrounding her, arms raised in defense as they work the binding spell around her.

The dim light casts enough of a glow for her to finally make out Pippa -

 _Pippa_.

Heart slamming in her chest, she crawls on across the cold, dank floor. Some of the vials on the wall must have shattered, the potions seeping into her skirt as the glass slices at her knees. But she doesn’t notice. Can only fight dizzy dread and horror as she flings herself down by Pippa’s motionless form.

Pippa’s so still. So very still. And Hecate vaguely realizes that she’s sobbing. Ugly, sharp rasps of terror as she places her hands on Pippa’s back and pulls her into her arms. She flops like a rag doll and Hecate hears herself pleading, begging Pippa to be alright, for her not to leave her.

She remembers when Pippa was lost to her before - loaded into a fancy carriage and drugged into submission. How she had slept alone that night for the first time in memory and had brought her pillow to her mouth, screaming in a blinding fear and panic of facing a life without Pippa in it. 

“Please,” she hears herself beg. “Please, please, please, Pippa.”

She hefts Pippa’s weight and turns her, brushing Pippa’s hair from her face with trembling, clammy finger.

One of the witches surrounding Broomhead breaks away and moves closer, crouching down beside Pippa and reaching out but Hecate jerks away, pulling Pippa with her. Her hands are frantic now, on Pippa’s face, her hair, her hands, slipping down the front of her blouse over still warm skin to press against her heart.

“ _Please_.”

Pippa’s head lolls back and Hecate shifts and cradles her more securely, hissing like a wounded animal as the patrol-witch tries to move in again. She tries to still her fingers enough against Pippa’s skin, strains to feel, prays, and cries and -

It’s there.

A thready, faint heartbeat, just below her fingertips.

Choking on her tears, Hecate presses more firmly, willing it not to be her imagination, that Pippa’s chest does rise and fall against her hand, her heart pulsing with life enough to drive out Hecate’s fear.

Pippa’s weight shifts to be less of a deadweight. It’s as if she melts into Hecate as her breath comes out in a shudder, heartbeat easier to discern under Hecate’s palm with every beat.

 _“Pippa?”_ Hecate breathes, tears still coming hard and fast and Pippa shudders again, presses closer so she’s curled against the protective arch of Hecate’s chest.

There’s a tug on the watch around Hecate’s neck and Hecate looks down to see Pippa’s hand curled in the chain so that Hecate bows down even more around her.

Eyelashes flutter and Hecate gasps in relief as Pippa’s eyes blink open through their clouded in pain and confusion and Hecate presses their foreheads together. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. Can’t seem to stop whispering as her hands move out from Pippa’s blouse to sweep over her. Feeling all of her, checking as if to ensure that she’s whole, that she’s real.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry.” It’s a chant. Nearly an incantation. The realization of what she’s done swells within her even as several more officers join the first, surrounding Pippa now that Broomhead and secured. Surrounding Hecate.

“It’s my fault,” Hecate cries. “It’s all my fault.” Even so her arms tighten around Pippa holding her close and the officers step forward, moving towards them.

“I’m sorry,” she gasps again and there are hands on her arms, holding her back as two medi-witches move in and prise Pippa from her. “No,” she whimpers. “Please, no.” She can’t let Pippa go and Pippa’s fingers are still tangled in the chair of her necklace. It takes several witches now to hold Hecate back, several more to lift Pippa, and another to untangle Pippa’s fingers until the watch falls free.

Hecate falls back against the witches holding her. She’s too weak, so weak, so desperately horrified. The realization of the damage she’s done rises in her like a sick, hot vibration as a stretcher is conjured and Pippa placed on it. Pippa’s head falls heavily to the side as they settle her and her eyes stay on Hecate’s.

And Pippa doesn’t move and Hecate can’t move.

And for the second time in her life, Hecate watches, helplessly, as Pippa is taken away.

Only this time it is all her fault.

______

**Nightstyx Hall, 1940**

The next day Ada organizes a meeting. It’s an odd affair, Cackle’s teachers in their whimsical and colorful ensembles, and the officers of Operation Hades in their smart khaki uniforms. Hecate sits primly, dark, and buttoned up, and severe in her seat in the drab little office conference room that the basement supplies and tries not to blush as she catches Pippa’s eye across her table.

It seems Pippa has been free range to dress as a civilian and Hecate swallows as her eyes trace the lines drawn up the back of Pippa’s legs as she crosses her ankles under flattering hem of her Utility skirt. Hecate frowns as she puzzles of how government manufactured clothing can look flattering on anyone, and Dimity seems to read her thoughts, nudging her.

“I heard about Pentangle, seen a few photos even, and I can see why you’re gaping like a schoolgirl, Hardbroom,” she mutters, sliding into the chair next to her. “CC41 is a good look on her - good look on any girl, if you ask me -  but on Pentangle? High fashion.”

Hecate clenches her jaw and slides forward in her chair, hands busying themselves with the folders that have been set at each place at the table. She studiously ignores Dimity and opens it, skimming the agenda just as a tall woman with wide-cheekbones and an authoritative countenance clears her throat and the room falls to order.

“Welcome. I am Major-General Theta Mabcock, British Army, Merlin Division. Thank you for attending your first official briefing of Operation Hades. You must be aware that while the non-Magical - what many of you here would call the Ordinary - arm of this Operation is authorized by a covert branch of the British Armed Forces, the magical contributions are unauthorized. What that means is those of you here who are Magical, are choosing to participate in this effort with your full consent and knowledge of this risks you face within your own government should your participation be discovered.”

“You a witch then?” Dimity smirks, looking Major-General Mabcock up and down with a keen eye and Hecate wants to transfer on the spot from sheer mortification.

“Mother: witch; father: Army. Natural fit, as it happens.” The Major General levels her gaze at Dimity with a look that encourages such little nonsense that Hecate finds herself immediately relaxing at the sheer mastery of such an expression.

She settles in and feels much more optimistic of this outlandish and unlikely alliance as Major-General Mabcock continues. Pippa catches her eye again and grins.

“Now. Operation Hades. Our objective is to minimize civilian casualties through predictive spell casting which enables us to estimate the time and anticipate the coordinates at which a destructive Event might occur. It’s rudimentary, to be sure, and we’re not always correct. Those are hard hits for our team here. But with the help of our Queen of Hell,” Major-General Mabcock inclines her head a Pippa, “our accuracy has improved.”

“For the most part,” Pippa sighs and Hecate’s heart twinges at the little furrows that draws up between Pippa’s brow.

“For the most part.” Major-General Mabcock nods, sliding a sheaf out from the folder before her. “You all have non-disclosure forms to sign. Please do so now.”

There’s a murmur around the table following a rustling of papers and scratching of quills. Hecate reads the form twice over before she finds it to be in order and signs with precision on the designated line.

“Lovely. If you pass them round, Sergeant Andrews will collect them.”

The redhead uniform that Hecate’s so often seen with Pippa rises and circles round, picking up the forms and arranging them in a neat pile.

“We have a number of special projects that we work on here that we would appreciate your efforts in staffing,” Major-General Mabcock continues once the Sergeant returns to her seat. “First, we have maintaining our cover. It’s very important that we conceal our location from those who wish to maximize destruction and life-loss, or those who side with The Great Wizard in Magical Neutrality and might expose us. Headmistress Cackle, we have an understanding? It is my belief that we can operate more freely with your school running on the premises and that your capabilities as Headmistress will provide excellent asset.”

“Call me Ada, please,” Ada says, turning very pink and looking downright titillated under the General-Major’s gaze. “Headmistress Cackle was my mother.”

Hecate stares at her.

Dimity looks as though Yule has come early.

She also looks ready to heckle, but Hecate silently spells her tongue to the roof of her mouth and Dimity whips around and glares at her instead. But if Major-General Mabcock notices the disorderly conduct of the Cackle’s staff, she gives no tell, turning back to her clipboard and roster and continuing down the list.

Hecate releases the spell on Dimity’s tongue who chooses the very childish approach of sticking it out at her instead in retribution. Across the table Pippa is laughing silently and Ada is looking between them all, a dignified frown of disapproval gracing her face as she folds her hands on the table and imperiously leans in to focus intently on the General-Major as she finishes doling out Miss Bat and Mr. Rowan-Webb’s assignments.

“And Miss Dimity Drill -”

“At your service, ma’am. Pleased to be here. Happy to help. Ready-o.”

Major-General Mabcock pauses, caught off guard. “Yes. Good.” She says eventually and Hecate makes the mistake of catching Pippa’s eye for the third time. “Communications. We will need all external communication encrypted and distributed to our operative locations across the country. This includes daily status updates, as well as urgent notifications when we feel an Event is imminent.”

Dimity salutes and Pippa’s biting down hard on her lower lip. Hecate sniffs in a dignified sort of fashion, then jumps when Mabcock calls out “Deputy Head Hardbroom?”

“Present.”

“Ah yes. I’ve heard you are a very talent witch. Your reputation precedes you. Very interesting paper on the Six Uses of Raven Feathers in Decontamination Brews.”

Hecate forces herself to remain sitting tall in her seat though she can feel Ada’s unwarranted glare and Dimity and Pippa’s childish glee.

“I wonder if you might help us with our location and timing accuracy. We would benefit greatly from your skill set and Miss Pentangle has informed we that you two already work well together.”

Ice suddenly in her spine, Hecate sputters, “W-work with Miss Pentangle?”

Major-General Mabcock frowns. “That won’t be a problem, will it?”

“Perhaps there are more suited individuals -”

“I assure you, your resumé is superior - ”

“ -who would better be in a position to - "

“ - we are short staffed and feel certain of your capabilities - ”

“ - assist Miss Pentangle in such a project - ”

“ - and strongly encourage you to consider how this position could - ”

“ - surely there must be someone else - ”

“I want you, Hecate.” Pippa interrupts.  Her voice cuts through Mabcock’s rebuttal and the room freezes and looks between the two of them. “I want to work with you.”

Throat tight, Hecate swallows with great difficulty. Nods once and drops her gaze to where her firsts sit clenched in her lap. She hardly hears the rest of the meeting, only a faint roaring in her ears and a sensation as the world is tipping two far to one side. She fears that if she moves she’ll tumble from her chair and fall into nothing.

It’s only when the chairs scrape around her that she forces her knees to unlock and rises stiffly, mind still blaring and blank and filled with static that she doesn’t realize she’s out into the hallway until a hand closes gently around her wrist and tugs her into through one of the many doors that line the vestibule walls.

She blinks once. Then twice, coming back to herself a bit as she adjusts to the dim light of the music room.

Pippa’s standing before her looking concerned.

“Didn’t you hear me calling your name?”

Hecate’s ears are still buzzing a bit and she shakes her head.

“Hiccup - ?”

She shakes her head again against the buzzing and Pippa releases her wrist, brushing her hands down Hecate’s arms instead. It lessens the fuzziness in Hecate’s brain greatly, but panic still fights through.

“You needn’t work with me, Hecate. Not if you don’t want to. Not if it goes against your principles or makes you uncomfortable. I only thought we’d make a good team. I’m sorry if I was thinking of myself and how nice it would be to spend time together again. I - I forgot that might not be something you would also want.”

Hecate stares at her.

“Hecate - ?”

“I want to spend time with you,” she whispers and Pippa looks surprised, as if that’s not the answer she’d prepared herself to expect.

“You do?”

“I can’t.”

“But -”

“Pippa.” It’s a gasp, the old pain building as she considers it. “There's a reason that I'm known to be a strict disciplinarian, some would say a fanatic for upholding the Code. Broomhead pushed against the laws of magic. And after that I had to - I had to -"

Pippa's eyes are very soft. "Make sure there were rules."

Hecate nods. 

"I understand. I'll talk to Mabcock, I'd never want to put you in a position where it only made things worse for you."

Hecate shakes her head, feeling overwhelmed. " _No._ I want to help. It's just - it's just quite a shift to make. I've hung my whole life on the Code. On what The Great Wizard thinks is best."

"It's kept you safe." Pippa says simply, with such understanding that Hecate finds her eyes pricking. 

"None of us are safe, not in this world now, Pippa. Least of all you. And I - I -" she shakes her head in frustration at her inability to express herself. "I told Ada that I would do whatever it took to protect the Operation. To protect you. But what if it's me you need protection from - what if - what if I - "

“You won’t hurt me.”

“But I -”

“You’ve _never_ hurt me.”

“But I have,” Hecate breathes and the world lurches sickly around her. “But I did.”

“That was Broomhead.”

“But I left.”

Pippa goes very still, and very quiet, and it breaks something old and raw open instead of Hecate. She falls back against the wall, knees unsteady and breath knocked from her as she tries to gasp out her explanation.

Pippa hesitates, but moves forward and guides her down until they’re sitting together on the floor, Hecate’s dress tugging her body into a tight s-shape and Pippa’s bare knees gathering dust as she kneels beside her.

“I should have never pressed my magic into you that night without your consent. I wanted to shield you - and I’m not sorry I did it. Not when if I hadn’t you’d be dead from Broomhead’s awful spell.”

“But you did ask,” Hecate gasps, remembering. “I let myself be weak. Pippa, I’m so sorry - "

Pippa’s shaking her head, fingers gentle on a Hecate’s sleeve. “I never want to hear another apology from you again, Hecate Hardbroom. Not about this.”

“But for leaving? For leaving you to go through all that alone? The trial, and the press, and your parents - ”

Pippa sighs. “A conversation for another time, perhaps,” she stands quickly, yanking Hecate unceremoniously up and Hecate can’t even squawk out a protest as Pippa’s cool fingers scrub quickly at her warm cheeks before she’s being pushed away just as the door clicks open.

“Saw ‘em head in here, ma’am,” Dimity grins from behind where Mabcock and Ada stand framed in the entrance to the music room.

“Ah yes, Miss Hardbroom. Miss Pentangle. Glad to see you’re getting reacquainted. Pentangle will brief you on what magical logistics we have in place for all our program resources, aside from herself, of course. We think it’s best to bring you up to speed with the basics of what we know magically before we have you apply that knowledge to Miss Pentangle’s work with us, as it’s rather more delicate.”

Pippa looks over at her uncertainty, but Hecate nods firmly and mimics the Well Met Mabcock sends her. 

"Now, Headmistress - "

“Ada - ”

“Ada. Might you give me a tour of how you’ve set up shop upstairs. My reports say that you’ve transformed the place since you’ve first moved in.”

Ada flushes to match her sweater and Dimity grins as she moves to follow them out. “I’ll come too,” she chirps and winks back at them. Her eyes drop to Pippa’s dusty knees at the last moment and she laughs and winks again before vanishing back into the hall.  

Pippa huffs out a bit of a laugh as well and leans down to swipe at her knees. “Who is that delightful young woman, Hecate? I’m enjoying her enormously. You can’t imagine how much we can use some comedy around here, what with the work we do.”

Hecate growls a bit and Pippa straightens. “You’re funny too, darling. In your own way. Might I remind you how you married me off to Hades, God of the Dead?”

Mouth open to hotly retort, Pippa merely takes her arm, steering her from the room. “I bet Miss Drill and one Miss Mildred Hubble get along _splendidly.”_

“You have no idea,” Hecate monotones.

Pippa’s laughter follows them as they go, and Hecate can’t help but feel her lips tug up as they walk together, arm in arm, out into the hall.


	10. Chapter X: The Dark of Night, It Holds Us Fast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hecate’s just preparing for bed that night when there’s a rap on her door and she pulls her robe around her tightly, opening the door to her chamber to find a floating bit of parchment written in Pippa’s hand.
> 
>   _Come now._

**Nightstx Hall, 1940**

Now that the Operation is more embedded within life at Nightstyx, Hecate finds herself busier than ever. She rises early to cover any necessary operational duties that come with being Deputy Head, then it’s breakfast, and lessons, and break - more often than not spent in a detention with Mildred Hubble - before more lessons, and lunch. She hands off her afternoon study halls to Miss Bat and prays the girls will be kept on task as she descends the stairs and slips through the crack in the wall to whatever room Pippa’s revolving wheelhouse decides to reveal first.

Today it’s the ballroom and she stands awkwardly, gazing up at the vast arch of the ceiling and the dark, glittering chandelier for a moment before there’s a sharp tap, tap, tap on the floor and she looks up. Sergeant Andrews and her dark-haired colleague, the bespeckled Corporal Wright, are approaching, their footsteps echoing around the nearly empty chamber.

“We’ve setup in Laboratory C today.” Sergeant Andrews says as they fall in beside her and escort her back across the floor the the hall.

Hecate loses track as they move along corridors and up stairs with shining wood banisters, then back down narrow ones with tacky linoleum and harsh fluorescent lights, squeeze through a cozy, old fashioned kitchen and then out into a high landing above an ornate entry hall, stopping in front of a carved door on which Corporal Wright wrapts smartly.

“Enter.”

The door swings open revealing a modern, if not heavily improvised, looking lab. There are masses of beakers, and cauldrons, and tangles of wires that lead of beeping machines. The chalkboard is covered in scrawled equations and runes and Hecate’s eyes sweep around the room to land on Pippa. She’s bending over a large notebook on one of the many desks, a pencil tucked behind one ear and a swipe of chalk across one cheek.

The door clicks shut behind Hecate as her escort departs and Pippa looks up and smiles.

“Come look at this and tell me what you think,” she say, straightening and Hecate picks her way over through the bubbling, beeping jumble and peers down at Pippa’s notes.

“A spell to determine air vibrations of German planes?”

Pippa hums from where she’s now fiddling with a burner under one of the cauldrons. “It won’t work, I know that already. I was hoping the filtering spell used in Concealment Charms  - like what we do with brooms so Ordinaries don’t see us - could be applied to differentiate their planes from ours. If we could apply a range detection spell then we’d know to be on alert if a plane entered the monitored zone.”

“It’s quite the - “

“Hodgepodge - I know.”

Pippa returns to stand next to her and shrugs. “Hodgepodge is my life these days is seems,” she gestures at the mess around then and then at the room at large. “It’s all really just something to keep me busy during the day. If I _could_ come up with such a spell -”

“- you wouldn’t be needed as much in the evenings.”

Pippa sighs. “About that.”

“Mabcock has me reviewing all of the case notes on you.”

“And?” Pippa’s rubbing a finger hard against an ink stain on the edge of the desk and Hecate can tell by the way her shoulders stiffen that she ought to proceed with tact.

But tact has never been her forte.

“I would rather observe the Event first hand. And I’d rather find the root of why this sense has been given to you than to exploit it further.”

Pippa’s head snaps up and she turns to Hecate. “And what then? What of the Operation and the people that we can save?”

“ _You_ can save.” Hecate murmurs, watching the way Pippa’s eyes can’t fully meet hers. “It’s not a burden that should be placed solely on a magical mishap - or curse perhaps - "

“You think I’m cursed?”

Hecate shrugs. “It can’t be ruled out. None of the case filings cover _why_ this is occurring. If we don’t know _why_ , how ever will we understand it enough to either control it in such a way that it has less of a toll on you. Or find a way to extract it entirely, but also understand it enough that something - such as your detection spell - would suffice if we could apply those principles.”

“Oh.”

Pippa turns back to the desk, her finger still smoothing over the wood, head bowed.

“Oh?”

“It’s just,” she laughs a little but her voice wavers a bit, “I suppose I’ve come to think this is just my lot in life. To accept it as something that will always hold such a space in the forefront. A darkness that I have to account for and put my best face forward about.”

Hecate slowly reaches out and stills Pippa’s hand. “You don’t. You taught me that about darkness, Pippa. You don’t have to accept that it will always be something you have to manage around.”

Pippa lets out a breath at that, a deep woosh and Hecate wonders how long she’s been holding this inside. She takes another breath, more slowly, and raises her head, eyes a little wet. “I’ve missed you.” She breathes.

A warm glow starts in Hecate’s heart and traces its way through her blood to warm her cheeks. “And I you. Let me help. Please. We do make a good team, after all.”

Pippa breathes around a laugh again and smiles. “Alright. I’ll summon you at the start of the next Event. We don’t have to tell Mabcock just yet.”

“A good idea, I think.”

Pippa hesitates. “It won’t be easy, Hecate. You can’t interfere or try to stop me. You mustn't touch me or comfort me, even if I ask for it.”

“I know,” Hecate sighs. “It’s in the file.”

“Yes.” Pippa looks unhappy and Hecate ducks her head until Pippa raises her own to meet her eyes.

“I’ll still be there, Pipsqueak. With you.”

Warmth and relief floods Pippa’s expression at the nickname.

“Then I feel braver already. Thank you, Hiccup.”

______

**Hutchinson’s Magical Infirmary, 1906**

In the cold, hard metal of the waiting room chair, Hecate Hardbroom sits staring at her shoes as the police-witch paces before her. “If you won’t give your statement to me, perhaps to another officer?”

Hecate shakes her head.

“What about if we summoned your parents?”

“You’d have a hard time with that.”

“How so?”

“They’re dead.”

The police-witch halts.

“Then you are a minor in the custody of Wilhelmina  Broomhead?”

Hecate winces and digs her nails into the fabric of her skirt.

“I’m eighteen,” she lies. Pippa’s not yet eighteen, and her own selected birthday won’t pass for another three months. But it’s the only protection she can think to give herself as she hunches under the police-witches assessing gaze.

“Then I cannot force you to give a statement, Miss Hardbroom. However, Miss Pentangle’s examination has provided ample evidence to the use of dark magic against her.”

Hecate jerks in her seat and the witch continues, pacing again and paying her no mine, “Miss Pentangle has also provided more than enough of a statement and agreed to testify. It should be enough to sentence Headmistress Broomhead. Good thing too, I’ve never seen such a spell, and I’ve seen plenty -”

Hecate’s on her feet in an instant. “Pippa’s awake?”

The woman blinks at her. “Yes - though I think she ought not to be disturbed -”

Ignoring her, Hecate sidesteps her, footsteps echoing on the tile of the corridor as she darts around the corner, heart in her throat, and pushes through the double door to the private ward Pippa’s been given.

She trips forward, eyes finding Pippa’s bed, sickness rising in her as Pippa lays still beneath the covers, cheeks nearly as pale as the sheets she lays upon.

Knees like water, she rushes closer, hand reaching out for Pippa’s when a voice stops her. “Who do you think you are - girl - stop this instant!”

Jerking her hand back, Hecate’s eyes fly up and she stumbles back as a very pretty, very rich looking woman rises from the chair on the opposite side of Pippa’s bed and glares at her.

“Who are you? Egbert, who is this?”

A tall man with a walrus mustache turns from a nearby window and approaches, clasping his hands behind his back as he surveys her. “Haven’t a clue. What is your name, girl?”

Hecate hesitates and he bounces impatiently on the balls of his feet. “Speak up, speak up.”

Trying to swallow down her distaste, Hecate clears her throat and stutters out, “Hecate Hardbroom.”

“Hecate?” Pippa’s mother queries, a line drawing up between her eyebrows. “Hecate? Pippa doesn’t know a Hecate - does she - Egbert?”

“I wouldn’t know - would I? Though the name does tickle the mind,” he harrumphs and studies Hecate carefully. “Hardbroom was it?”

“Yes, sir,” Hecate whispers, eyes on Pippa where she lays motionless on the bed.

“Hecate Hardbroom?” Pippa’s mother fusses over her name some more and then gasps and her slim, white gloved hand reaches out to alights on her husband’s tweed clothed arm.

 _“Hiccup_.”

For a moment, Hecate feels relief. The old nickname a salve to her aching spirit and for a brief, shining moment she imagines Pippa’s beautiful mother will open her arms to her, Pippa’s oldest and dearest friend.

But Mrs. Pentangle’s eyes are narrowing into slits, her fingers tightening on Mr. Pentangle’s sleeve as his mustache twitches indignantly.

“Can’t be.” He grunts. But Pippa’s mother is staring at her.

“Oh how she used to go _on_ about you. ‘I want, Hiccup,” she mocks in an affected baby-doll voice, “‘Bring back Hiccup or I won’t eat my supper, or smile for your friends, or sleep through the night without _crying_ ,’ _oh_ it was simply tedious.”

Hecate can feel color blotting high on her cheeks and she forces herself take deep breaths as her still wounded magic winds tightly in her chest in sharp anger.

When she doesn’t say anything Pippa’s mother scoffs. “Hiccup this, and Hiccup, _that,_ ” Mrs Pentangle says in that same sickly baby voice and Hecate realizes there’s jealousy that spills out around the edges of her tone and in the way she gazes at Hecate in pure resentment.

“I always thought you must be a remarkable sort of creature,” Mrs Pentangle continues, “but I can’t understand the fuss now that I look upon you. She is rather plain, isn’t she, Egbert?  And, oh dear, I’m afraid she might rather be a bit of a simpleton. Look how she stares so.”

Mrs Pentangle tisks and Mr. Pentangle draws out a monocle that he affixes to one eye. “Ah yes, ragged little thing, isn’t she. Tall as a beanpole and just as thin.” His mustache flutters as he draws breath. “Dear me, is that a Nightstyx uniform? Girl - where did you get that -”

“I’m enrolled at Nightstyx,” Hecate mumbles, fingers aching to take Pippa’s hand. Heart aching for Pippa to wake up. Heart aching for Pippa.

Mrs Pentangle gasps. “We would have pulled her out immediately if we knew she was once again fraternizing with lower class ruffians.”

Hecate studies her shoes and grits her teeth.

“And just look what’s happened now,” Pippa’s mother coos, fingers fluttering over Pippa but never actually touching her. “Our baby.”

“Is it money you want,” Pippa’s father pats his pockets and withdraws a pocketbook.

“Money?”

“For your silence.” He flips it opens and a quill appears from the air. “I suppose you think you can get enough money by exploiting Pippa to the presses, but I can promise you that our sum would be more than generous.”

Hecate blinks. “ _Exploiting?”_

Mustache twitching Mister Pentangle scratches out something on the bank note before holding it out across the bed. Hecate stares at him and doesn’t move to take it.

Pippa’s mother tisks again. “What is it you want then, girl. If not money.”

Hecate stares down at Pippa, still and silent on the bed. She thinks of Pippa’s body convulsing as dark magic tortured her to near death. She thinks of how she should have prevented it.

“Nothing. I want nothing.”

 _I deserve nothing_.

“Then I suggest you leave.”

Hecate opens her mouth, but the doctor appears just then and Pippa’s parents turn eagerly towards him. Closing her mouth Hecate swallows and looks down again. Pippa’s awake and watching her through hazy, pain-filled eyes.

“Hiccup?”

“I’m sorry,” she breathes, suddenly feeling like she’s carrying a highly contagious, socially stigmatized disease.

She backs away, but Pippa reaches out feebly to catch her wrist. Her hands are cold and her grip weak and Hecate’s stomach turns over on itself.

“You’re here,” Pippa whispers. “The doctor said he didn’t know where you were.”

“I can’t stay.”

Her heart is shattering in her chest, but Pippa looks so frail, so small in amongst the white covers, and Hecate feels shame eating at her, gnawing her until she thinks she’ll hardly be able to bear it. “I’m sorry,” she repeats, trying to pull away.

“Don’t. Hecate.”

Pippa tries to tighten her grip but her fingers hardly press against Hecate’s skin. Everywhere they brush against her wrist it burns and Hecate jerks her hand away.

“Please.” Pippa whispers. Hecate shakes her head. “Don’t go.”

But Hecate turns, glad Pippa can’t see her face as she stars down the infirmary corridor, gathering speed with every step, tears tracking down her cheeks.

Behind her there’s the sound of someone else crying but she doesn’t look back.

Can’t risk looking back.

“Oh, she’s awake, Egbert, she’s awake. Now, now, Poppet, stop that noise. Tears will make your pretty little nose red.”

“Good riddance,” says Pippa’s father, and Hecate can feel his eyes on her back.  

The heavy hospital door swings shut behind her.

She breaks into a run.

______

**Nightstyx Hall, 1940**

Hecate’s just preparing for bed that night when there’s a rap on her door and she pulls her robe around her tightly, opening the door to her chamber to find a floating bit of parchment written in Pippa’s hand.

 _Come now_.

Heart suddenly unsteady, she transferred to the basement door and takes the steps two at a time. The golden wall pulsates and she slips into the light, sending out a locator spell at the same time as she times her transfer so that she evades the sure to be lurking Sergeant Andrews and Corporal Wright and instead appears exactly where Pippa is on the other side.

Pippa who is bent over in her chair as if her stomach aches very badly.

Hecate rushes to her but Pippa draws back. “You mustn’t. I’m glad you’re here though.”

Pippa’s forehead is beaded with sweat and she’s trembling. “Clever of you to get in directly, I hope they didn’t detect you. I make Mabcock give me space whenever an Event hits, though I get the news to her as quickly as possible.”

She nods at a device on the the table and Hecate peers down at it.

“What is it?”

“Called a maglet, latest technology, military grade. We’re still testing it.” Pippa winces and hugs her middle more tightly. “Delivers messages instantly.”

“Like a telegraph?”

“Faster. Ugh.”

Pippa moves from the chair and slips to the ground, forehead pressing into the cool tile of the floor.  “I can’t tell the location,” she whimpers as Hecate crouches helplessly next to her. “We have about an hour - I can’t tell -” Pippa squeezes her eyes shut and her whole body shakes with exertion. “It’s north. But only by a little.”

“What can I do?”

“Can you write that? On the maglet?”

Hecate rises and retrieves the device. Returning to kneel before Pippa on the ground as she scratches out the message, careful to imitate Pippa’s curling script. “Now  address it to Mabcock and tap the top of the screen three times.”

The message disappears and Hecate blinks. “Are you sure this is secure?”

“Quite sure,” Pippa groans. “Only one other like it in the whole world and Mabcock has it.”

The screen dings and Hecate looks down again.

“They say to focus on Manchester.” The maglet dings again. “Or Leeds.” Ding. “Or Liverpool.”

“It’s Liverpool,” Pippa sighs, fingers curling against the floor. She’s back in the thin robe and Hecate bites her lip in concern as Pippa’s shoulder blades arch through the sheer fabric.

“Will you tell them.”

“What? Oh, yes.” She delivers the message and Pippa begins to recite coordinates. Hecate can feel a heady magic coming off her in waves and writes quickly, conveying the messages as swiftly as she can.

“There’s more,” Pippa gasps, “but I can’t feel what they are.”

“It’s alright,” Hecate sets down the maglet and inches closer. “It’s alright.”

“It’s not though,” Pippa pushes herself up and sits trembling, her face pale and strained. “Those are the ones that are never alright.”

“You can feel them coming?”

“Yes.” Pippa’s eyes close.  “I’m glad you’re here, often it’s hard to hold the pencil. But I don’t want anyone seeing me like this.” Her eyes flutter open. “I don’t want to scare you.”

“You’ve been just fine so far.”

Pippa shakes her head. “It hasn’t started yet.”

Heart pounding Hecate swallows tightly, remembering Pippa’s cries from before.

“I’ll be right here.”

“I know.” They look at each other and Pippa rises unsteadily, gesturing her up.

“I thought you might want to examine me. They do monthly health and magical reflex tests. Occasionally I let them test me during an Event. But if we do have any hope for discovering how to magically detect mass destruction without it channeling through me, you’re the one I trust to be altruistic in the solution.”

She moves over to sit on a small table and summons over a number of devices. “I’ll take my own pulse. I don’t let anyone touch me during an Event - least - least -”

Hecate remember how Broomhead’s magic had channeled through her and shakes her head. “I understand.”

Pippa holds her own wrist and watches the nearby clock, reading out the numbers which Hecate writes down in a notebook she summons from her robe pocket. Pippa then lies down and Hecate sits beside her, closing her eyes and concentrating on the pulse of magic that radiates from Pippa in a wave.

It makes her feel melancholy, to feel Pippa’s magic so intensely, to have it surround her and cling to her as she shifts in her chair. Pippa’s golden hair fans out beneath her head and Hecate can’t help but lose herself in how lovely she looks. Or fret over how tired and fragile she seems.

She’s just opened her notebook to take a few more notes when Pippa sits up suddenly, breath coming sharply. She pulls her knees up to her chest and Hecate watches helplessly as her back shakes, wracked from horrible spasms as she begins to rock back and forth on the table.

“No, no, please.”

She’s promised herself she’ll be brave. Promised Pippa. But hearing her like this makes Hecate’s eyes prick, her heart thumping hard against her ribs as if straining to run to Pippa and give her whatever comfort should can offer.

“Please,” Pippa begs, and Hecate feels fear shoot down her spine in icy rivulets. “Please, no.”

“Pippa,” she whispers, but remembers her promise not to not interfere and her breath is lost beneath Pippa’s cries.

The minutes tick by and Pippa shakes and sobs, hands clenching and unclenching in her hair as throughout the country bombs fall to earth and lives are forever ceased. Finally, after hours have passed, Pippa begins to quiet. Hecate watches as she comes back to herself a bit. Watches as Pippa moves her hands down and over her own hair, stroking it gently, then moves an arm to wrap around herself, stroking her own back just under her shoulder as if soothing a small child.

And Hecate feels a tear work its way down her cheek as she remembers a younger Pippa, cold and often lonely in their crowded dorm at Birchwick’s, remembers how as a motherless girl Pippa used to mother herself to sleep, used to gently brush her own hair back just as she does now and whisper to herself little assurances. Hecate remember Pippa doing it for her, tracking calming fingers down her arms or pressing a soft palm against Hecate’s own distressed forehead in times of trouble. It breaks her heart to see it from Pippa again now.

Slowly, Pippa unfurls and blinks at her, as if she’d forgotten Hecate was there. “That’s the last of it I think -” but even as she says it, she stiffens, horror flashing across her face as she doubles over and slips back to the floor. She’s screaming, screaming in terror such as Hecate has not heard since the nice of Broomhead’s attack. And Hecate is helpless, helpless once again but to hover over her, tears coursing down her cheeks in hot tracks as again she finds herself below this school, in this basement, crouching over Pippa’s prone form.

Pippa’s hands are covering her face, as if it can keep out whatever terror is berraging her and Hecate can only whisper to her, whisper that it will be alright, that it will all be well. She knows her words can hold no meaning, not when Pippa’s feeling the effects of the Event so deeply, and her stomach knots at what it can possibly mean.

At last Pippa falls silent, breath ragged and utterly spent and Hecate feels the magic in the room suck back down within her, like a flame snuffing out, as she goes still.

Unable to stop herself, Hecate’s fingers come out and hover in the air above her her back, hesitant to touch, least it cause her more pain, but desperate to comfort.

The door flies open and she rips her hand back.

Major-General Mabcock stands in the doorway, heavy lines of concern etched across her forehead and a cup of tea in one hand.

“That sounded bad.”

Pippa raises herself on trembling arms but can’t quite seem able to push herself upright and Hecate catches her as she falls sidewise, cradling her still quivering body.

Mabcock comes to a halt. “Oh. You. I might have known. Here, tea.”

She conjures another teacup and it hovers in the air before Hecate as Mabcock thrusts the first cup into Pippa’s hands, wrapping her fingers around the china and helping her lift it. “Atta girl, drink. That’s right.”

Pippa gulps then gasps, seemingly a little less weakened and Hecate once again detects the hum of her magic as it kick starts itself. Mabcock nods approvingly and rises, summoning over a chair and producing a case file as Wright and Andrews appear with heavy blankets that they wrap around Pippa, pulling her forward to tuck them between her body and Hecate’s.

They look unsurprised to see her there and Hecate winces, realizing that there’s more than likely many more precautions she ought to have taken when attempting to steadily evade members of a secret operative.

Pippa finishes her teacup and sags against her, and Hecate pucks the fresh cup from the air and passes it to her instead. Pippa takes it gratefully, breath still coming in raggedly.

There’s an efficient bustle of activity around them, Sergeant Andrews pulls down a map on the wall and begins to place pins in based on a list she reads from. Corporal Wright moves to the typewriter in the corner and begins typing rapidly, nodding over at the Major-General who begins to dictate notes from her file. Hecate feels she ought to pay attention, but it’s hard when Pippa’s burrowed against her, fragile and in pain, and Hecate is still so unsure of her place in all this.

But Pippa seems to be following, eyes on Mabcock, softly correcting or embellishing any detail that is needed, breathing more easily as Mabcock begins to list the confirmations.

The list concludes and Mabcock hesitates.

“Tell me.” Pippa’s voice is hoarse and Mabcock shakes her head.

“You know I don’t like to.”

“Please. Tell me.”

Mabcock stands and approaches, bending to take the teacup from Pippa. She then takes her hand. “Air raid shelter. Under a college. College was hit. Fell through to the shelter. Landmine via parachute.”

Hecate can feel Pippa’s distress, but Mabcock continues to hold her hand gently and look at her steadily. “It not your fault. You’ve done very well. You can’t save them all. You’re doing more than anyone in the nation knows.”

Pippa’s back bows and Hecate knows she’s crying silently. Mabcock catches her eye and they share a solemn look.

“I suppose we should increase your clearance, Hardbroom. Welcome to Hell.”

Hecate sucks in a breath, grateful that Mabcock isn’t pulling Pippa away from her in a way that she couldn’t begin to communicate. Instead she sits quietly and let’s Pippa’s weight rest against her as Mabcock rises and joins Sergeant Wright at the map. They begin to speak in low voices and for a spell there’s only the clatter of the typewriter and Pippa’s gradually slowing breath.

It’s as if Mabcock can sense when it’s at a normal rate because she turns and nods at them. “Her rooms are on the third floor, on the left. Only thing in this place that sticks in one place, as blessings have it. Corporal Wright can show you.”

The Corporal rises and approaches, helping Hecate get Pippa onto her feet. She sways unsteadily against her and Hecate worries her lip between her teeth. “Oughtn’t we transfer her?”

“Best not when she’s in this state, poor lass.” The Corporal gently takes Pippa’s elbow and Hecate slides her other arm over her shoulders. Between their efforts they guide Pippa from the room, pausing when she stumbles and helping her hold her balance.

It’s painstaking, but they manage together to get her upstairs and Hecate gratefully bays Wright goodnight once Pippa’s securely through the door.

Once she’s gone, Hecate helps Pippa through the suite of rooms and to the soft, downy looking bed that stand before large, blank windows. She eases Pippa down and summons a warm, wet cloth, gently washing Pippa’s face as she shivers.

“Is it always this bad?”

Pippa shakes her head. “Only when there’s a calamity I’m not prepared for. The Balham Station bombing in October when that water main broke and drowned all those poor souls was the last time it was so severe.”

She shivers again and looks exhausted and Hecate sets aside the cloth and pulls back the covers, saying as much.

“That’s why I go down in my night things, Wright and Andrews aren’t magic, they can’t transfer me into something more decent for bed. After it’s all over I just want to -”

“ - be alone?” Hecate guesses, knowing it’s how she would feel.

“Not tonight,” Pippa catches her hand and holds it. “Not when you’re here.”

Hecate hesitates, but Pippa curls her fingers around her hand a little more as if to reassure her. “Stay. If you’re able. Stay.”

And so Hecate helps her stand and guides her under the covers before slipping out of her own robe and frowning a bit.

“What is it.”

“It’s trivial.”

“Tell me.”

“I always sleep on the left of the bed. Can never sleep otherwise. Even when I’m alone.”

Pippa grins, chapped lips and red eyes and, even near exhaustion, she looks so beautiful.

“Oh, Hiccup. Still?”

Frowning again Hecate settles on the left as Pippa scoots over. “Still, what do you mean by still?”

Pippa scoots back, a little closer, nose pressing against Hecate’s arm. “My bed was on the right of yours at Birchwood. So I was always on the right.”

Hecate blinks. Suddenly the long held habit becoming a memory, rather than a peculiarity, and she sighs at herself.

“Then how foolish of me. After all these years.”

“How sweet of you,” Pippa manages around a yawn, “after all these years.” She yawns again and whispers ‘Hiccup,’ but trails off and when Hecate looks down she fast asleep.

Spelling off the light, Hecate slides a hand so it rests against Pippa’s back. She stays away for a long time, simply feeling Pippa breathe.


	11. Chapter XI: Children Like Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pippa’s fingers find the break in the chain and suddenly it is whole again.
> 
> Her fingers then find the raw burn on Hecate’s neck and suddenly the skin there is whole again as well.
> 
> And Hecate doesn’t need Pippa to touch her above the heart to feel it begin to mend, though her fingers press there briefly all the same.

**Nightstyx Hall, 1940**

The next morning Hecate blinks awake and lays for a moment in half-consciousness mulling over the strange contentment that makes her feel so soft and warm that it nearly tugs her down into sleep again.

Gradually her senses sharpen and she blinks in the darkness of the room, turning her head to just make out the source of her comfort. Pippa curls along her right side, back to her, body nestled snugly against Hecate’s own and Hecate swallows down on the emotion the sight and feeling the warmth and pressure being so close to Pippa elicits within her.

It’s like a memory. It’s like a home. She closes her eyes and tries to savor the peace it brings, having Pippa so near. There’s a tightening in her stomach, a whisper in her mind that she does not deserve this, and she takes a deep breath, holding it for a moment as a tear finds its way down her cheek and falls to the pillow.

There’s a shift beside her, and Hecate wipes hastily at the salty trackmark, pushing herself up on one elbow to look down at Pippa as she rolls towards her, eyes sleepy from where they peek up from under the blanket.

“Hi,” Pippa rasps, voice hoarse from sleep and no doubt the night before.

“Hello,” Hecate manages, chest tight at how precious Pippa is, how she wants nothing more than to curl around her and protect her from the world. Cautiously she reaches out a finger and smooths a stray hair behind Pippa’s ear. “Did you sleep well.”

Pippa yawns a bit and frowns. “I did. But I could sleep for days after a night like last night.”

Her finger is still smoothing absently against Pippa’s hairline and she withdraws it, fighting down a blush. “Is it always so dark in here?”

Pippa pushes herself up to sit and nods. “Always. I haven’t been above ground in - ” she pauses and wrinkle her nose. “I suppose the night I happened upon you and Mildred. But I didn’t get very far, did I? And, well, I can’t remember the last time before that. Not since just after we came here.”

“That was ages ago.”

Scrubbing at her face Pippa’s shoulders slump. “I usually sleep late in the morning. Then am in the lab afternoons and I rest in the evenings before -” she shrugs again. “I’m their best asset. I don’t get much free range.”

Hecate slides out of the bed and summons her robe, wrapping it around herself. She crosses and pushes back the covers, holding out her hand. “Come.”

Cautiously, Pippa places her hand in Hecate’s and allows her to help her out of the bed. “To where?”

“You’ll see.” Hecate steadies Pippa and then turns, heading to the wardrobe where she collects a skirt and blouse, warm stockings, and Pippa’s underthings which makes her blush. She returns and deposits them on the bed while Pippa watches curiously. “Into those, where’s your coat?”

Pippa waves her hand and is dressed in an instant. “Haven’t got one.”

“Haven’t?”

“No use for it, it’s always the same down here.”

“Hmmm,” Hecate takes her hand again and leads her to the door, peering out and then tugging Pippa along after her. They start down the steps and Pippa follows gamely.

“Hiccup, whatever are you up to?”

“Getting out of my night things, for starters.” She tugs Pippa across a landing, hoping she’s going the right way. She stops for a moment, feeling the way with her magic, and then moves them through the dining room where a bright crack of light guides them to the way out.

The pass through the glowing beam together and blink in the sudden dark of the cavern beyond before Hecate conjures up a light and starts up the stairs, pausing at the landing and curling her fingers so her night things turn to a long black skirt and blouse with a heavy cape around her shoulders. Her spare cape appears in her hand and she turns, wrapping it around Pippa’s shoulder very gently, making sure it falls to fully cover her and taking extra care with the clasp.

Pippa’s eyes glow in the dim light. “Hiccup - ”

“Hush. You know I’m not very good at breaking rules. But I’m feeling very determined.”

“Where - "

Hecate shushes her again and cracks the door open, peering out into the clear, bright light of the entrance hall. It’s still early, the castle sleepy in it’s silence, and she pulls the door open, guiding Pippa out who blinks rapidly in the natural light.

“Oh.”

Pippa sways against her a bit, hand tight within her own and closes her eyes. She tilts her face towards the gray light of morning and breathes, allowing Hecate to guide her forward until they’re standing in the center of the hall.

Slowly, Pippa opens her eyes, squinting a little. She lets them rove over the wooden staircase wound with it’s everblooming roses, down to the warm rug that runs down the hall beyond. Her eyes move up to the large windows high above and she gasps, hand squeezing Hecate’s even more tightly.

“Oh, Hiccup - it’s snowing!”

Hecate looks up and finds it is. Through the lead-glass, white flakes swirl and eddy against the bright gray beyond. It’s lovely, but not so lovely as the way Pippa looks, face tilted back, eyes bright at the sight. Hecate feels her breath catch and tugs Pippa’s hand determinedly.

The old oak door creaks open and she curls her fingers around the wood pushing it open enough that she can slip through, drawing Pippa out after her.

The snow has blanketed the grounds around them, wrapping the grown up vegetation and crooked trees in white.

“I never thought Nightstyx could be beautiful,” Pippa breathes, resting against her as the snow buffets and swirls around them.

She steps forward and navigates carefully down the shallow steps, footsteps marking her path and Hecate watches her breathe in the fresh air, feels her own heart shiver with affection at Pippa’s childlike wonder.

Pippa spins around, a little unsteadily, and Hecate goes to her, taking her arm and together the make a slow circuit of the castle. Pippa points out all the new trees that have sprung up since their school days, laughing at the foreboding one that had blocked their path that first night.

“Fitting it grew here - nature certainly knows that Nightstyx is not fit to be lived in.”

But for the first time Hecate disagrees, as she watches Pippa brush bare fingers across the frosty trunk of the tree, as she watches her spin and dip amongst the snowflakes. Hecate knows that wherever Pippa lives, she wants to live too. How so many years apart have make it more urgent a need for her than ever. She doesn’t know what to do with such an emotion, with the weight of her longing - not when she’d given it all up before. Not when she’d been the one too cowardly to face Pippa. Not when she’d left when Pippa needed her most.

Pippa turns to her and laughs, snowflakes in her hair and on her eyelashes and Hecate resolves to be better. To be steady when Pippa needs her now, to be strong when Pippa bends under the weight that’s all too heavy on her shoulders.

Something must show on her face because Pippa sobers and comes to her, concern in her eyes as she takes Hecate’s hands, twining their fingers together.

“What is it?”

Hecate shakes her head, emotion heavy in her throat.

“Hiccup?”

“It’s just,” she whispers, “I like to see you in the light.”

Pippa’s face breaks into a brilliant smile and she lets her head fall back, face held up to the falling snow. “I don’t know how I’ll return to life underground now,” she sighs.

 _Then don’t_. Hecate wants to plead. Instead she squeezes Pippa’s hands. “It’s different now, isn’t it? With Cackle’s in residence? You’d just look like one of the teachers, not that there’s anyone around to see. Still, it’s not so odd for you to be above ground.”

Pippa brings her head back to center and smiles. “You’re right. I shall work to convince Mabcock that above ground recreation is something I need more of. Maybe even some sunlight.”

“Next opportunity that allows for it,” Hecate promises, eager to see Pippa warm and basking in the warm rays of the sun.

It’s growing colder and they shiver a little and Pippa laughs and brushes a bit of snow off Hecate’s cheek. Her fingers are cold and Hecate takes her hand, warming it between her own.

“The girls will be up soon,” she says regretfully and Pippa smiles.

“Deputy Head Hardbroom. I’m awfully proud of you, you know?”

They begin to walk back to the castle and Hecate frowns over at her. “And why is that?”

“Teaching,” Pippa say, simply. “After what happened to you, how little anyone cared for your education other than to exploit you, I could see how it might hold some fear for you.”

Hecate’s quiet for a moment, considering how to explain. “I admit, I’m stricter than most. I worry about it sometimes, but I know these girls are capable should they apply themselves. I suppose I wanted to make things better, to make an environment where girls learn all they can. I push them. But I know where the line is.”

“Better than most.”

Pippa’s looking at her and Hecate ducks her head. “I think you’re the bravest witch I know, Hecate Hardbroom.”

Hecate blushes and busies herself with dusting snow off the shoulders of her cape. Pippa’s hands come up and help, and when Hecate looks up, her eyes are very warm. “And I am proud of you. These girls are lucky to have you.”

They return to the warmth of the hall, Hecate feeling suddenly shy and unsure. She certainly doesn’t feel ready to say farewell to Pippa, but there are classes to prep for and girls that need attention. She’s about to hesitantly suggest that Pippa come up to her room for some tea before she has to be at breakfast, when there’s a clattering behind them an the front door swings open to reveal a very snow covered, very frozen, Mildred Hubble.

Hecate stares at her before jumping into action, rushing forward with a Warming Spell and a Drying Spell along with a staccato of questions and inquiries which end in, “ _Mildred Hubble, what is the meaning of this?”_

Mildred hangs her head Hecate sees that her nose is not just red from the cold, for her eyes are red as well.

Pippa crouches down, and gently touches Mildred’s arm until she looks up. “Mildred, what’s happened? Is someone bullying you again?”

Mildred shakes her head, braids still stiff with snow and sniffles. There’s a small mirror held tightly in one hand and Hecate’s heart seizes.

“Your mother,” she says carefully. “Is she well?”

Mildred shakes her head again, remaining snow splattering them with her movement and she begins to cry.

“The factory near the farm she’s at needs more workers. They’ve requisitioned anyone fit enough for a factory floor and that means Mum.” She wipes messily at her eyes and then digs in her pocket, pulling out Hecate’s black silk handkerchief out, on which she noisily blows her nose.

Pippa looks up and their eyes meet, and while Mildred’s distracted Pippa’s fingers slide up and brush against Hecate’s, warmth brimming in her eyes as their hands touch.

“Mildred,” Pippa refocuses on the crying girl, “do you have the address your mother was relocated to?”

Mildred sniffles and nods.

“Will you give the address to Miss Hardbroom?” Pippa’s eyes slide up again and Hecate gives a nod of understanding. Mildred wipes at her eyes and nods as well.

“This are difficult times,” Pippa says, hands stroking down Mildred’s arm. “You’re being so brave, my sweet. So is your mother. What is her name?”

“Julie,” Mildred chokes out. “Julie Hubble. She wouldn’t want me to cry.”

“Tears are perfectly normal when you’re scared or upset. It’s how your body releases stress.”

Mildred hiccups a little and takes a deep gulp of air. “I do feel a little better now. Thanks, Miss Pentangle.”

“I’ve heard, Mildred,” Pippa says, straightening the collar of Mildred’s uniform, “that you make the most wonderful Pepper Up Potion.”

“You have?” Mildred looks awed and Pippa smiles even as Hecate determinedly keeps a neutral expression as Mildred shoots her a furtive look.

“I have. Now, we’ve both been out in the cold. Why don’t we head to the potions lab before breakfast and make one together before either of us catch the sniffles.”

“Miss Hardbroom, too?”

Mildred’s eyes slide over to her again and she arches an eyebrow at her but doesn’t object.

Brightening, Mildred takes Pippa’s hand and tugs her forward, chattering about mistakes she almost made the last time around with this potion and all the ways she knows now not to mix coriander seeds for white pepper - and that coriander is cilantro in seed form - and that she didn’t know the difference before starting potions lessons with Miss Hardbroom.

Hecate blushes at the smile Pippa throws her way and busies herself behind her desk with markings as Pippa and Mildred raid the ingredients cupboard. In truth, she watches them more than she pays attention to the pages before her, marveling at how easily Pippa engages with Mildred, feilding her questions and teaching her tips such as how to extract hyacinth bean juice more easily with the flat side of a silver knife. Mildred seems to glow under her attentions and soon there are three mugs of Pepper Up on the desk before her.

Cautiously, she takes a sip, nodding her approval as a warm rush floods through her, banishing the chill in the extremities of her body.

“Wonderful, Mildred.” Pippa sips her drink, steam curling up from the mug that she cradles between her palms. “A first-rate concoction.”

Hecate nods again, and her heart, already unexpectedly warm and full, glows warmer still as Mildred beams.

______

**Weirdsister College, 1907**

“Did you hear about that Nightstyx girl?”

“I can’t believe it.”

“I _know._  I can’t believe something like that happened to her. I mean, she’s so _gorgeous_ -”

“And rich - ”

“I _know_.”

“And from such a good family, too.”

“Can you imagine what being part of this trial is doing to her poor parents? It’s so public.”

“At least her pictures in the press nearly every day - if I were as pretty as that I would all the boys in the country to know I looked like _that_.”

“Such a tragic story. I heard her parents don’t even want her to go to university. They want her to marry as soon as the trial is over. Put it all behind her.

“She’s so brave.”

“And beautiful.”

“And _rich_.”

“My brother keeps her picture pinned up in his _room_.”

“I wish I could keep her picture pinned up in _my_ room.”

“ _Abigail._ ”

“What! It’s only what we’re all thinking.”

“I bet she’s loving this tabloid fame. All this attention? Wish it were me.”

“I _know._ I wish I were just like Pippa Pentangle.”

Hecate slams her book down and the girls across from her jump as she shoves back from the table.

“Oy! Watch it!”

“Don’t mind her, Abby, that’s Hardbroom the Hag. Everyone knows she a miserable old bat. She doesn’t like anyone and no one likes her. Hey -  try smiling, Hardbroom - ”

Abigail giggles, watching her across the table in scandalized amusement.  “Yeah, smile! No wizard will want you with a face like that, Hardbroom.”

“Or a nose like that!”

The girls fall into fits of giggles and Hecate swings her bag up onto her shoulder and snatches her book up. She stalks away, ears burning, neck burning, chest burning.

The girls’ laughter rings in her ears and she pulls the book tightly to her chest, bowing her head as she rushes from the library so no one can see her tears.

______

**Nightstyx Hall, 1940**

As November fades into December and Yule approaches, life from below Nightstyx begins to bleed into life above. More often than not, Major-General Mabcock can be seen conversing with Ada over meals and Hecate spots them more than a few times walking together on the grounds reviewing the perimeters.

Or ‘ _Reviewing the Perimeters_ ,’ as Dimity likes to call it from where she stands next to Hecate at the staff room window, cutting the air with heavy finger quotes. Below them Ada and Mabcock have stopped to linger by a patch of wild winter roses on the snowy grounds.

Hecate clears her throat and Dimity only grins. Miss Bat crowds in between them, polishing her spectacles before peering keenly out.

“Oh,” she giggles as Ada plucks a rose and hands it to Mabcock. Mabcock receives it with formal appreciation and and tucks it into the button hole of her uniform and Miss Bat and Dimity fall into girlish speculation until Hecate decides enough is quite enough and herds them away from the window.

Pippa suddenly has more free range, and Hecate suspects she knows exactly what Mabcock and Ada are up to, and uses it to her advantage. And Hecate doesn’t know how it comes to be, only knows that the potions lab is suddenly filled with Mildred and Pippa every morning, munching on toasted National Loaf while they dabble together over this potion or that.

Hecate tries to insist that Pippa use the time to rest, but Pippa merely taps her on the nose and tells her she’s sweet to worry. She doesn’t worry less, though she blushes a great deal more.

For she blushes a great deal these days. Especially when Pippa looks up from her cauldron and throws her such warm, happy smiles that Hecate has to remind herself that Mildred is about and keep her features in order, although her heart is pulsing with bright, warm affection.

It scares her. This hot, dizzying affection. But she feels craven to it, desperate to keep alive the firefly sensation in her midriff that seems to tug her eyes up to Pippa’s - even as she fights to keep the corners of her moth from tugging up as well.  It’s like an electrical thread that pulls her to her, a Magnetizing Spell, a sweet addiction that makes saying goodbye to Pippa as Mildred dashes to classes harder, only second to when she bids her good night in the wee hours each morning after an Event.

She hasn’t spent the night again, not since that first time. She tells herself it’s because she has duties above stairs - the girls might need her; Ada might come looking - but the truth is as much as she longs for such proximity, the thought of curling next to Pippa in the darkness scares her. Instead she helps Pippa to her room and sits by the bed as she falls asleep. And if she holds her hand until she does, there’s no one that need know of it.

As the days pass, she’s learning more about Pippa’s magic - or whatever magic has created this strange hold on her. Though to focus on the task at hand when Pippa is in the throes of an Event is nearly impossible, but she grits her teeth and bears down, focusing hard on the powerful pulsation that emanates from Pippa and fills the room during an Event and how it slams back into her shivering body when at last it’s all over. She stays up late reading old texts, new texts, obscure texts. None of them bring her any closer to the answer she’s looking for.

She doesn’t know how to comfort Pippa when there are misses - not when Pippa feels them all - feels each life leave this world in agony, and pain, and fear. Pippa tries to describe the sensation but it’s hard for her, Hecate knows. She settles on intently reviewing Pippa’s case notes as to not make her relieve it all again.

And yet, through the blackness, morning still comes, as mornings always do. And mornings are full of Mildred Hubble, and Pippa’s gentle smile, and increasingly advanced potions that have Hecate rising from behind her desk to assist without thinking much of it. Not until she has her hands deep in a Thrice-Brined Headache Tonic with Pippa and Mildred when the door to the potions lab bangs open.

Maud Spellbody stands framed in the doorway, looking terrified as Hecate’s eyes fly up to rest upon her.

“S-s-sorry, Miss Hardbroom.”

Behind her, Enid crosses her arms, looking obstinately at the floor and not very sorry at all.

“It’s just - we were just - we were looking for Mildred. Hi, Mildred.”

Maud’s eyes dart over to Mildred and even through her obvious panic at being caught in Hecate’s gaze - in her potions lab - before breakfast - she manages to look profoundly curious at the sight of the scene before her.

Hecate purses her lips, fighting down fear that clenches her stomach in its twisting fist over being caught out in her own way.

It’s not until this moment - of having Maud Spellbody and Enid Nightshade appearing  awkwardly in her doorway - that she realizes that Mildred and Pippa have become her soft morning secret, a part of her she’s unwilling to share, least she be seen as less of a disciplinarian, or least she allow herself get too used to this unexpected comfort.

She slowly pulls her hands free from the tonic, the potion dissipating with a silent spell as she moves in and looms above the two girls. Maud gazes up at her, mouth agape in dismay, while Enid only crosses her arms more tightly, shoulders hunching further.

Suddenly, there’s a Mildred shaped flurry of movement between them as two Thrice-Brind covered hands reach out to clasp on Maud and Enid’s own, tugging them around Hecate and back towards the cauldron before Hecate can so much as say ‘ _detention_.’

“Look what we’re making - oops -” Mildred slides her sticky hands out of her friends’ and take the cloth Pippa offers, whipping first her own and then clumsily dabbing at Maud’s fingers and then at Enid who bats her away. “Headache Tonic.”

Mildred finishes with the cloth and grins up at Pippa.  “This is Miss Pentangle. She comes to visit sometimes and helps me with my potions. This is Maud. And Enid.”

Maud’s gape becomes even more pronounced. “ _Pippa_ Pentangle? _The_ Pippa Pentangle?”

Pippa dries her own hands and sweeps a Well Met. “Lovely to meet you, Maud. And Enid, Mildred’s told me so much about you.”

Maud continues to look dazed and Enid’s eyes flicker up briefly before dropping back to her shoes.

“It’s her Mum and Dad,” Hecate hears Maud whisper from where she still stands frozen by the doorway. “They told her they’d rent a cottage nearby for Yule and have her come stay but now they’re not coming.”

“Enid, no.” Mildred looks devastated, a hand reaching out to press against Enid’s shoulder.

Enid doesn’t shrug her off but keeps her gaze down, and Hecate can see the glitter of tears in her eyes.

“S’okay,” the girl mumbles. “Shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up. They never keep their promises. They never want to see me.”

Mildred bites her lip and Enid starts to cry.

It’s not something Hecate would expect from a girl prone to surly moods and headache-inducing mischief. But Enid cries like she too is surprised at her own emotions - gulping, heartbroken tears that have Mildred's own eyes shining and Hecate’s heart twisting uncomfortably in her chest.

Hecate looks to Pippa who is watching the exchange with wide, sympathetic eyes. She crosses around the cauldron, hesitating a little.

But she only has to come close enough to Enid before the girl has unfurled her clenched limbs and is clinging to her, face buried in Pippa’s abdomen, burrowing closer to Pippa like a mast in a storm. Pippa immediately moves to hold her and murmurs softly,  soothing her with gentle words and hands.

“I’m sorry.” Enid chokes out, sounding embarrassed, but Maud pats her on the back.

“Sometimes we all need a hug and a good cry, Enid. It’s alright.”

“I just - I just - want my Mum,” Enid sobs and Hecate realizes how often she forgets just how young her charges are. “I just want them to want me.”

Pippa holds Enid more tightly.

“Sometimes,” Pippa tries, her voice pitched low, “sometimes when I was young, and missed my parents, I would feel just as you do, Enid. Sometimes all I could do was cry, because I missed them so.”

“What did you do?” Enid whimpers, and Pippa draws back and wipes tenderly at the tears on Enid’s face. “How did you make it hurt less?”

Pippa smiles at her, very gently. “Just as you have Maud and Mildred - friends who cheer you up and who love you, who make you feel like you belong - I had someone, too. Someone who cared about me very much. And I knew that as long as I had that I wasn’t alone. That I was lovable. That I was loved.”

Pippa gaze doesn’t leave Enid and Hecate swallows, throat tight as she turns away to hide her emotions. Her heart glows and chills all at once, first with warmth for having been able to provide Pippa that solace, and then, with gut-twisting guilt, at how Pippa must have felt after her betrayal.

“Maud - Mildred -” Enid’s voice wavers and there’s a shuffling sound and Hecate doesn’t need to turn to know that the two of them have moved in to wrap their arms around their friend. When she does collect herself enough and does turn, it’s to  see the three of them all together in one embrace around Enid.

Pippa meets her gaze from over Enid’s shoulder and her eyes are so wet and soft that Hecate pauses, caught in the warmth of her gaze.

There’s something in the air between them, so much that hangs unsaid -  things that Hecate cannot say now - not when there are tear-faced girls around, and not when her own throat is tight and convulsing with an old grief and need.

She breaks her gaze away and clears her throat and the girls jump away from each other.

“It is time for breakfast. Now.” She manages. “Tardiness will not be tolerated.”

Mildred wipes at Enid’s eyes and takes her hand, and Maud takes her other arm and they trip forward, skirting around her, towards the door. Enid looks back over her shoulder at Pippa and breaks away, running back for one last darting hug before once more ensconcing herself between her friends. They shuffle out the door together, which swings shut behind them with a thud.

There’s silence, for a long time. When Hecate cannot bear the tension any longer, she turns, slowly, and finds Pippa still standing by the cauldron.

The morning sun flares through the high windows, turning Pippa’s hair to gold and the tears on her cheeks to jewels. Pippa closes her eyes against the light, or perhaps against the pain that Hecate can feel radiating from her, sharp as the beams of light that washout the room with white, hot intensity.

She can hardly stand the pain in her own heart, or the brilliant brightness, but she forces her muscles to unclench, forces her feet to move her, agonizing over every step, slowly, treading forward until she stands before Pippa in the light.

 _I’m here,_ she wants to say.

But her tongue feels leaden, jaw too tight.

Pippa’s hands come out, reaching for her blindly all the same and Hecate finds she doesn’t have to say it. Not when Pippa pulls her close against her and tucks herself just under Hecate’s chin, nose fitting against her neck as it has since as they were small.

 _I’m here_.

It wouldn’t be enough to say that, she realizes. Swallows. Tries to find her voice and swallows again until the words can come, tight with years of guilt and pain, but finally spoken aloud.

“I thought that you would be better off without me. That you would be safer. Happier. That after what I’d done you wouldn’t - you wouldn’t - ”

“Want you anymore?” Pippa’s voice is muffled but Hecate can feel the way her breath puffs against her collar and shivers violently at the sensation. Pippa’s hands tighten against her dress.

“How could you. After what I did?”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“Leaving was.”

Pippa’s quiet for a long time but doesn't release her until the sun must pass behind a cloud because the room dims and she finally pulls away.

“Children like us, Hecate. We never got the luxury of a safe and happy childhood. We didn’t have anyone looking out for us, worrying about our wellbeing. Even the ones who were supposed to. We had to learn to be fend for ourselves, to be alone, from very young.”

“But we weren’t alone - ” Her voice is strained and she hates how it sounds to her own ears, weak, and needy, and filled with fear.

“You’re right. We had each other. And then I left you.”

Hecate gasps. “You had no choice.”

Pippa shakes her head, eyes glittering. “You were _all I had_.”  Her voice is sharp with tears and Hecate’s own eyes prick at the devastation in her voice. “And I _left you_.”

Hecate wonders how long Pippa has been carrying this weight and shakes her head back at her.

“And so you thought that you were getting what you deserved when I make the choice I made?” She fights down agony at Pippa ever thinking such a thing.  “Pippa, I know you never wanted to leave me. You mother said as much - your mother she said - ”

Hecate’s gulping around angry tears now, hands fisting in her skirts in distress as she remembers. “Your mother she said that when you were a child you wouldn’t sleep - you wouldn’t _eat_ \-  that you refused to obey them because you wanted to come back for me - “

Pippa gasps. “She told you that? When? Hecate - ”

“At the infirmary - your parents - ”

“What else did she say to you? Hecate, what did they - “

Hecate clenches her jaw, eyes falling to study the floor. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does.” Pippa moves forward and stands before her, ducking her head to try to capture Hecate's gaze. “Hecate - ”

“They said it was my fault. What happened to you.” She hears Pippa gasp again. “They weren’t wrong. If I hadn’t - if I’d never - “

“ _No_ \- ”

But Hecate grits her teeth and continues on, old pain flaring deep in her chest and loosening her tongue.

“If I had never come to Nightstyx, or if I’d just realized that you were too good to be spending time with the likes of me - if I’d let you be friends with the other girls, the ones from good families, instead of keeping you all to myself - if I’d never tried to escape or go back for this dratted necklace -”

She reaches up and yanks the chain from around her neck, it slices into her skin there as it breaks free and she hisses but grips the watch as if to hurl it.

“Stop!”

A strong hand catches her wrist and stays her.  
  
“Stop it!” Pippa’s eyes are blazing, full of fire and she tightens her grip on Hecate’s wrist. “I chose my friends. And I _chose_ you. I didn’t want any of those silly witches. I wanted _you_. And don’t you _dare_ pretend that we are any different - that I am any better than you in any way. We both are from the gutter, Hecate. You were the _only one_ who would understand where I’d come from, what I’d been through. You were the only one I trusted to know the real me, to _see_ the real me. We are the same, you and me. And I don’t care how many times anyone made you feel lesser, because you are simply not and I could see that clear as anything. I won’t have you feel this way about yourself any longer - not when you’re better than all of them - smarter, and braver, and, kinder - not when I - “

Pippa breaks off panting and Hecate stares at her.

There’s a charge between them, so like the night the last time Pippa had held Hecate’s mother’s locket and Hecate feels her grip slacken in panic at the thought. The chain slips through her fingers and Pippa releases her wrist, catching the heavy watch and cradling it between her palms.

“Your mother _loved you_ , Hecate. You deserve to have that love with you. Always.”

She’s crying a little, chest moving with grief, and Hecate can only stand, reeling from emotions that she feels ill equipped to handle.

Pippa’s fingers find the break in the chain and suddenly it is whole again.

Her fingers then find the raw burn on Hecate’s neck and suddenly the skin there is whole again as well.

And Hecate doesn’t need Pippa to touch her above the heart to feel it begin to mend, though her fingers press there briefly all the same.

Pippa slips the watch back into her hands, curling Hecate’s fingers around the casing.

The room suddenly feels exposed as Hecate registers the distant chatter of voices echoing up from the dining hall below.

“Pippa.”

Pippa shakes her head, looking very tired.

“I should go. You have class soon.”

Hecate’s heart protests as Pippa moves to pass her, aching in a way she’s afraid to name. But Pippa pauses, and turns back. Her fingertips come to rest lightly on Hecate’s cheek.

She lingers only for a moment, and then she turns and is gone.

Hecate stands in the classroom, quite lost in her own world, until there’s clattering in the hallway beyond as the girls amble from the dining hall to class. She shakes herself, snapping her fingers to empty the cauldron as she prepares herself to face the day, mind never straying far from thoughts of Pippa.


	12. Chapter XII: The Stars They Look So Cold Tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fighting down a blush, Hecate slowly unties the rough string and pulls the paper apart.
> 
> Inside is a thin sheet of muslin with the initials H. H. embroidered amongst a grouping of hyacinths. The stitching is uneven, the work put into it truly evident, and Hecate swallows, and swallows, and swallows, around the tide that rises within her.
> 
> “Because you gave me yours,” Mildred reminds her, which doesn’t help her emotional state at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy 2019, one and all :) We made it! Fitting that new years passes in this chapter at well. 
> 
> Thanks for coming with me on this journey. xo

**Nightstyx Hall, 1940**

December marches on and brings Maud and Enid alongside Mildred into Hecate’s quiet morning routine. There’s soft laughter, and murmuring, and sleepy smiles in her classroom every morning now.

She feels she should be embarrassed by it. Reminds herself she ought to be.

Except for one morning, it snows, and the girls opt to tiptoe outside for a snowball fight instead of tiptoeing into to her lab. And she suddenly has to face an unexpected sense of loss.

She stands with Pippa at the window and looks out at them and Pippa, laughingly, stays her from transferring down and doling out detentions for being out-of-bounds before breakfast.

“They’re out of bounds when they come here, too, you know,” Pippa smiles.

“They’re under supervision,” she sniffs.

Pippa gives her a knowing look and Hecate huffs.

In truth, the classroom feels cold and empty without the girls and she has half a mind to give them detentions despite Pippa’s protesting just to fill it with them again.

She’s more than a little relieved, she has to admit, when the next morning she finds herself faced with anything but quiet as Maud and Mildred rope her into an impassioned debate as to whether crystal balls are valid magical devices, or if they are merely carnaval-like trickery. At a table nearby, a sleepy Enid leans back against Pippa, nearly in her lap, in that unconscious way that children who are at ease have - that Hecate has never had - as together they look over Enid’s chanting assignment.

She has to pause at the sight. Can’t tear her eyes away from the gentle way Pippa speaks to her, the quietly attentive, yet slightly protective, manner she has with the girl.

And Hecate realizes she feels no jealousy, merely warmth, and her cheeks pink at the recognition that her heart has moved into an unknown, unexplored territory, quite without her permission. Her eyes drop down to her desk as she unnecessarily smooths the parchment on the table before her, lost in thought. Mildred clears her throat, and Hecate startles, automatically snapping out that crystal balls are merely magical mockery, _end of discussion_.

Maud cheers while Mildred rolls her eyes.

Outside it continues to snow.

______

Yule brings bombings in Manchester and across the country, so severe that Hecate cannot leave Pippa in the aftermath.

Pippa leans against her on the cold tile of the lab as Mabcock and her team work around them, and whispers to her, pleads with Hecate to end the darkness, to somehow wake her, as if she’s merely caught in a starless night or terrible dream. Her voice weak and fraught, and Hecate can only hold her in her arms as she trembles.

And so Yule dawns bright - sunlight on glittering snow - and Pippa blinks awake in Hecate’s bed, exhaustion tight across her features as Hecate hovers beside her.

“Have you been awake all night?” Pippa’s voice is still weak and Hecate shushes her.

“I’ve been worried. If you must know.”

“Sun,” Pippa whispers, face pale in the gathering light of morning.

“I thought it might help. A bit.”

Pippa tries to smile, but Hecate can tell she’s far too drained.

She rolls to face where Hecate perches on the edge of the bed and takes her hand, closing her eyes again. Her features relax at the contact, but suddenly she frowns, her grip tightening.

“Hecate, the girls.”

“Girls?”

“Maud. Mildred. Enid. What if they think we’ve abandoned them. They’re waiting for us in the lab - we were going to make Gingerbread Drafts - I _promised_.  Hecate, it’s _Yule._ ” Pippa looks so distressed and Hecate sighs.

Which is how - Circe save her - she finds herself spending Yule morning with a pile of girls in pinafores in her  _sitting room._ It’s simply indecent, but the girls bounce and grin, chattering happily as they swap presents and giggle. Pippa lays wrapped in her warmest robe and propped against pillows, Enid snuggled against her side.

Hecate can see her exhaustion, and stands fretting by the fireplace. Every time Pippa’s eyes slip closed, her eyelids show bruised purple in the pale morning light and Hecate’s heart twists. But she blinks them open, catching Hecate’s gaze, and her smile is so heartbreakingly bright that Hecate would go to her, go to her and hold her close, if the girls were not around.

She’s so caught in Pippa’s eyes that she startles when Mildred is suddenly before her, tugging on one braid with one hand and clutching a clumsily wrapped brown paper package in the other.

“For you, Miss Hardbroom.” Mildred holds it out and Hecate freezes, unsure.

“Go on, Hecate,” Pippa prompts from the settee and Hecate takes the package with careful fingers.

“I haven’t anything for you, Mildred Hubble.”

Mildred grins. “You’re teaching me to be a better witch. That’s plenty, thanks, Miss Hardbroom. Beside, Miss Pentangle made us all jumpers.” She plucks at the dark green sweater she’s pulled on over her uniform. From the settee, Maud bounces in a mauve one and Enid a soft lilac.

Fighting down a blush, Hecate slowly unties the rough string and pulls the paper apart.

Inside is a thin sheet of muslin with the initials H. H. embroidered amongst a grouping of hyacinths. The stitching is uneven, the work put into it truly evident, and Hecate swallows, and swallows, and swallows, around the tide that rises within her.

“Because you gave me yours,” Mildred reminds her, which doesn’t help her emotional state at all.

She dares not look at Pippa, instead focuses on Mildred’s bright, unsure eyes and smiles in a way that surely must look a little crooked, as if she doesn’t quite know how to smile. But it must be enough to convey her gratitude because Mildred dares to dart forward and _hug her_ , before traipsing back to the others. She snags a Christmas Orange as she goes, one that that Hecate had bribed Dimity into procuring from Merlin-knows-where as a treat for the girls. Not that she had confided to her as needing the oranges for anything other than a complex and arcane potion. And not that she’ll admit to anyone in the room as to why she has them.

By noon she sends the girls down to lunch and help Pippa to the bed, summoning up a tray for herself and Pippa instead. Pippa eats little, despite Hecate’s urging, and only falls into a deep sleep after Hecate has read to her from a tome of rare and unusual magical creatures for a good twenty minutes.

Once Pippa’s asleep, Hecate gently shuts the book with one hand, careful not to move her other too much least she disturb Pippa who holds it securely in her sleep. She sits by the bed as shadows come up around the room, content to watch the setting sun, content  to watch over Pippa as she slumbers.

______

The final days of 1940 are dark, exhausting, tense. Heavy bombing in London, incendiaries and high explosive that cause an inferno, drive Pippa into bed for the days that follow.

And Hecate has to tell the girls that Miss Pentangle is unwell. Has to muster up her courage and witness their concerned faces which make her heart feel like it can’t quite beat properly. She ferries notes and hand drawn cards back down to Pippa, who smiles weakly, but smiles all the same.

Each day that passes, the girls become more concerned, and Hecate fields their questions best she can, unsure of what exactly to tell them, or how much they already might know, or have guessed, as to the true nature of Pippa’s illness.

She’s so focused on Pippa, and so focused on keeping the girls calm, that she doesn’t realize she must look a wreck herself. Until one morning, she once again appears before the girls, prepared to deliver the news that Miss Pentangle is once again on bed rest and face their disappointed faces.

Instead, she appears in the lab and finds a sheet draped over her desk and one of the enchanted roses from the hallway in a vase. There’s freshly toasted Nation Loaf and some apple slices drizzled with honey. There’s hot tea, and a plate of muffins that shimmers in and out of being as Mildred stares at in determined concentration.

It disappears and she sighs.

“Well, I haven’t the knack yet for conjuring food yet, but the rest is real, sure enough.”

“And _what_ is this.”

Maud swallows but Enid smiles, mischief in her eyes. “We thought - ”

“You could use - ”

“Some cheering up,” they chorus.

Eyebrows in her hairline, Hecate stares at them.

“Sit down, Miss Hardbroom.” Mildred pulls out her desk chair and Enid and Maud escort her so that she has no choice but she shuffle forward and stiffly sit.

“Have you been taking lessons from Corporal Wright and Sergeant Andrews?”

Enid giggles, confirming that the girls probably do know more than they ought.  
  
“We’re going to tidy up the lab. You eat. Then you can take this flower to Miss Pentangle.” Mildred grins at her and Hecate chokes on her tea, setting down her cup to pat dainty at her mouth with the hankie she once again keeps up her sleeve. Mildred eyes follow the movement and she beams in further delight.

“This is outlandish.”

“Miss Pentangle would want you to eat. She says it’s not good to skip meals. And you haven’t come to the dining hall in a long, long time.” Maud says sagely.

Mildred peers down at her until Hecate takes a self-conscious bite of toast.

“There. Not so hard, is it? Besides, we need you at your Most-Miss-Hardbroomness. We need your help. Because we have _got_ to learn how to conjure magical food by the end of the day. I know magical food isn’t real, but it’s Felicity’s birthday tomorrow and we’d like to at least pretend to have cake.”

Enid nods eagerly and the three of them turn set to work sweeping up and wiping down tables, reordering the potions stores.

After the stress of the past few days, Hecate finds relief in having them around, their cheery companionship familiar now. It gives her anxious heart something to focus on. Something good. Something that would make Pippa happy.

She blushes to find that it makes her happy, too, and finishes her tea and toast before splitting the apple into three portions.  Conjuring the treat onto three plates, she sends them to float beside each of the girls before rising to assist them with rehousing a rather tricky, spiny puffer-fish into a fresh tank of water.

She returns below with stories for Pippa, and her heart glows all the more as Pippa laughs in delight and easy affection over the little trio that has come to be such a bright spot in a dark world.

_______

**Weirdsister College, 1907**

“Hecate, I’m disappointed in you.” Professor Wingbaum frowns down at her. “And surprised. You’re top of class, and yet your failed your display this afternoon. Quite spectacularly, I might add.”

Hecate stands stiffly before her professor and studies the floor.

“I’m sorry, sir.”

Professor Wingbaum removes his spectacles and folds them, placing them neatly on his desk as he peers at her. “Anything the matter? Anything you want to discuss?”

Hecate’s chest tightens so much she can hardly manage to draw breath. She tears her eyes away from the paper on the desk and the headline that is magnified through the bifocal that now sits atop it:

TRIAL OF THE CENTURY: BROOMHEAD SENTENCED TO LIFE, PENTANGLE TRIUMPHS

“Miss Hardbroom - ?”

Hecate shakes her head, the room lurching a little as she does so.

“Hmmm. Most disappointing,” Professor Wingbaum tuts. “Fortunately your marks are high enough, but this does place you as sixth in class.”

Hecate hardly hears him.

“Are you sure there’s nothing you wish to discuss?”

Hecate closes her eyes, sees the candid black and white picture of Pippa’s determined, unsmiling face as she leaves the courtroom that is splashed below the headline burning in her mind's eye. She reminds herself that she ought to be grateful that she’s not being sentenced as well. That Pippa never pressed charges against her for her crimes. That, unlike Broomhead, she won’t be brought to justice. Guilt sears through her and she forces her eyes back open to meet Professor Wingbuam’s puzzled gaze.

“No, sir. Nothing.”

______

**Nightstyx Hall, 1941**

“I’m afraid we have a situation.”

Hecate jumps, quill falling from her hand as she looks up at Major-General Mabcock’s sudden appearance before her desk.

“Pippa -”

“Is fine. But I believe it to be prudent that I brief you in advance of the Event this evening.”

Hecate frowns, rising to her feet abruptly. The chair behind her squeaks against the floor as she pushes it away, her eyes trained on Mabcock’s own.

She nods at her to sit and only returns to her chair once the Major-General has settled herself.

They look at each other and Mabcock steeples her fingers.

“We have orders from higher up.”  Mabcock says, flatly. “There are concerns that the Germans are growing suspicious at how our RAF planes intercept them so diligently.”

When Hecate is silent, she lays her hands flat on the desk and levels her gaze. “Our order are - unless their mark is London - we are not to report locations of the Events this evening. The cost of civilian lives will be worth the cost of preventing the Germans from discovering we have intelligence on them. We’re to throw them off any notion that we have advance knowledge of their targets.”

Hecate’s heart is pounding so loudly that she has to force herself to focus around the noise.

“So civilians are to be made a sacrifice of. Does Miss Pentangle know?”

The Major-General hesitates. “I must confide in you that my superiors have instructed me not to inform her. That she is to report to me, in the usual fashion, and I am to stay from relaying the information to headquarters. If they don’t know the coordinates, they can’t be held accountable for inaction.”

Hecate bristles, mouth opening in hot angry objection, but Mabcock raises a hand, her head tilting slightly.

“I cannot keep such a thing from her.” Mabcock suddenly looks very tired. “She would know anyway, wouldn’t she? She will feel the unusual - unreasonable - loss of life. The full effect of the Event.”

“She would wonder what she did wrong,” Hecate grits out.

Mabcock meets her eyes head on. “Precisely.”

Hecate’s long fingers grip the arms of her desk chair and she taps her nails uneasily against the wood.

“Have you informed her?”

“Only just.”

“It didn’t go over well, I warrant,” Hecate eyes Mabcock, notes the sharp creases around her eyes, the weariness that she’s only now noting in the upright set of the older woman’s shoulders.

“It’s an impossible situation for her to be placed in. I’m sorry to have to bring you into it.”

Hecate shakes her head tightly, fingers finding stillness as her heart aches for Pippa. For those who will surely die tonight.

“I would like to see her.”

She half expects Mabcock to deny her, but the older women looks relieved.

“That would be for the best. She will need support.”

Ducking a swift nod, Hecate rises along with the Major-General.

“If there were any other way - “ Mabcock breaks off and grimaces.

“I know.”

Heart and hands clenching, Hecate follows Mabcock out and together they descend down into the dark.

______

Pippa looks up when she enters but doesn’t move. Her eyes are red rimmed and her face pale. Hecate shuts the door behind her, and crosses to sit beside her.

“You’ve heard then?”

“Yes.”

Pippa’s fingers are twisting around and around each other and Hecate longs to take them. But Pippa, as if sensing it, slides them under her thighs, between her skirt and the chair, hiding them away and keeping them still.

 _I’m sorry._ She longs to say.

But it seems inadequate. It seems like an indulgence to say it if only to make herself feel better. Not when when there’s not any response that Pippa could give to assuage the guilt that twists her gut.

Instead she summons tea things and makes Pippa an indulgently strong cup. She holds it out and after a moment Pippa takes it but doesn’t drink.

“I can fetch a Sleep Serum,” she offers. “For after.”

Pippa gives a sharp nod and Hecate straightens, slipping out the door and tracking her way out through the twisting halls to remount the stairs. From there she transfers to the potions lab and hurries to the storeroom. Her fingers close around her strongest bottle, but she hesitates.

Releasing it she opts instead for the Serum she and Pippa had made with the girls just before Yule. It’s a weaker batch, but there’s strands of all three of the girls’ hair in it. Hecate suddenly feels certain that Pippa will have a more restful sleep if she’s dreaming of Maud, Enid and Mildred, then if she’s not dreaming at all.

Pocketing the bottle she rushes back below floors, unwilling to be away from Pippa for longer than necessary.

When she returns, however, Pippa is up, pacing around the room. Her hair is coming down, her arms covered in cuts as she scratches at herself with her own nails, motions frantic and quite mad. She sees Hecate and backs away, a frightened, wild thing.

“You should go. You shouldn’t be here tonight.”

Hecate sets the bottle on the table, slowly, carefully, eyes never leaving Pippa’s.

“I won’t go.”

Pippa’s hands are in her hair, tugging, eyes scrunching shut in pain and Hecate’s stomach turns over.

“Hecate,” she whimpers.

It’s so broken, so devastated, and Hecate approaches her slowly.

“I’m right here. I’m not leaving you.”

She keeps her voice low, gentle. Tries to use it to calm Pippa when she can’t touch her. Can’t keep her from digging nails into soft skin. Can’t stroke her hair back or hold her close.

“Hecate.”

Pippa freezes, shudders. Starts reading out coordinates and Hecate slowly takes up the Maglet. Slowly relays them as they come, knowing that it’s all in vain. That no help will come from this.

Suddenly Pippa’s words are lost and she’s running for the door, fists slamming against cold metal, body following the same path.

“You have to help,” Pippa cries, pounding on the door. “You have to send help. Please, _please_ \- ”

She slams her body against the door again and again and Hecate drops the maglet, hurrying to her and trying to calm her.

“Pippa, stop, you must stop - please. Please don’t. Please.”

Pippa whirls around, fire and pain in her eyes. Her hands are bruised and raw, arms streaked with blood, hair sweaty and askew.

“That last coordinate - ” she chokes out, her voice shot through with anguish. “How can we just - ”

Hecate thinks back over the string of numbers, blood running cold.

“Julie Hubble. The factory.”

Pippa’s face crumples and she’s back at the door, fists banging uselessly, crying out for help that will not come.

“Pippa,” Hecate gasps. Pippa’s arms are shaking, her body convulsing as she screams through the door for aid, for anyone, and Hecate can bear it no longer.

She catches Pippa’s wrist and tugs her around, headless of of the forbidden contact. She doesn’t care anymore, doesn’t care what might happen to her. Not now, not anymore.

Her arms lock around Pippa’s waist, pulling her in until their foreheads rest together. She pushes Pippa back against the door to keep her still and their breath mingles raggedly.

“Hecate,” Pippa whimpers a third time. “Please - _please._ Let it take me instead of Mildred’s mum. Let it be over - let it all b-be over. I can’t - I _can’t -_ help me, Hecate. _Please_ \- ”

And Hecate isn’t sure what drives her too it. A roaring voice inside urges her to pull Pippa forward, to slide her hand around the base of Pippa’s skull to crash their mouths together. It’s a heartbroken, aching, blinding need and Pippa gasps against her, meets her with equally fierce, intensity. And Hecate feels her shudder under her, pressing closer as their hot mouths slide together.

Hecate urges her back and her hand slides from Pippa’s waist to her wrist, holding Pippa between her body and the door until she can feel their magic spark together. She can feel the wild frenzy of Pippa’s powers, they rush through her like the sound of her own heartbeat in her ears. There’s a hot, pulsing power to it, the way it slicks through Pippa, acidic and destructive, and she tugs on it just as she tugs Pippa’s bottom lip into her own mouth.

Their powers tangle together, arching and sparking with friction and Hecate gathers Pippa close, gathers their combined magic in a tight bundle, and squeezes her eyes shut. Summons all her strength and casts a spell, puts all her might and skill into it, until it bursts from her like a convulsion.

Pippa falls back, wide-eyed and damp-cheeked, her hand still pinned by Hecate’s own as she stares at her, lips parted and swollen.

“A long-range Transference Spell?” She gasps through ragged breath.

Hecate grimaces, heart pounding as her blood tries to settle, heart breaking with how once again she’s betrayed Pippa.

“Not enough to get her here. But enough to get her out.”

Pippa’s fingers twitch within her own. She breathes sharply out as her eyes roll back.

When she falls forward, Hecate catches her, the roaring in her ears ever louder as she remembers the last time Pippa lay like a dead weight in her arms. Frightened, whispered apologies tumble from her trembling lips as she and brings her to the floor, unaware that the voice she hears yelling is her very own, calling for help.


	13. Chapter XIII: The Memory of You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I used to think,” she whispers, “after your sessions with Broomhead, when you’d come back drained and hurting, that I would go to Hell for you and back. If it meant you could be free.”
> 
> “You needn’t have been quite so literal about it,” Hecate admonishes, and feels a tear burn hotly down her cheek. It falls between them and Pippa shakes her head.
> 
> “It’s not so bad,” she murmurs, “when I get to see what you’ve become.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really love this chapter and the next, i think they're my fav of the fic. :)

**Nightstyx Hall, 1941**

She can’t face her. She can’t.

Mabcock tries to reason with her.

Ada tries to coax her.

They don’t know what Hecate’s done though.

They think they do.

But they don’t.

“Terrible business,” Ada whispers. “But you’ve done nothing wrong. Transferring Julie Hubble to a more secure location, despite the magical and logistical impracticalities of such an act - a feat that should not be possible - was very foolish, Hecate. You could have put yourself at great risk using that sort of magic at such a distance. But Mabcock’s team has done recon, and sure enough she’s safe and sound at one of Hades’ safehouses. And Miss Pentangle is sure to make a full recovery. It was very brave of you. Very foolish, but very brave.”

Hecate digs her nails into her palms and says nothing.

Hours tick by and Ada finally concedes defeat and leaves her to her thoughts, alone in the hall outside Pippa’s room.

She can’t face her.

She can’t.

Time seems to blur and run together. She is unable to make sense of it. Can hardly feel anything at all. Except for the hot, shameful guilt that races through with every breath. It makes her stomach roil and she focuses on trying to turn off any sensation she feels throughout her body. To become empty. To become stone.  

Her lips still tingle where Pippa’s touched them, and she scrubs at them, trying to erase the awareness, trying to erase her transgression.

There’s a blurry shape before her and she blinks blearily up, head aching and skin burning.

“Up.”

Dimity’s mouth is a thin, tight line and she hauls Hecate up by her elbow.

“Miss Drill.”

“Do not,” Dimity growls, “‘ _Miss Drill_ ’ me.” She pushes Hecate forward, unfazed when Hecate locks her knees before Pippa’s closed door.

“You’re not a coward, Hecate Hardbroom. So stop acting like one.”

Hecate sputters, trying to twist from Dimity’s grasp, but Dimity only tightens her hold.

“I don’t know what spooked you - but it doesn’t take much to guess. She needs you - she’s been asking for you. Time to witch up, HB, and get in there.”

Dimity yanks open the door and unceremoniously shoves her through and Hecate finds herself in the dim, quiet of Pippa’s bedroom.

The door snicks shut behind her.

For a moment there’s only the sound of her own breathing and she stands in dizzy terror, trying to regain her facilities before her knees uncramp enough to move haltingly forward.

Pippa lays on the bed, still and silent, face pale in the half-light and hands bound in clean white bandages. There’s a sharp smell of healing salve in the air, and Hecate looks at the smooth pale expanse of Pippa’s arms and is glad to see her cuts have mostly been healed.

The floor creaks beneath her and she freezes as Pippa’s eyes flutter slowly open.

“Don’t leave,” Pippa breathes, voice little more than a whisper.  “Don’t you dare leave.” She shifts a little, damaged hand moving very slightly on the bed, as if trying to beckon her closer, and Hecate hesitantly sinks down to sit rigidly on the edge.

“I’m sorry.” The words are tight, sharp and guttural, and she feels every muscle in her body stiffen as shame races through her once more.

“For saving Julie Hubble?”

Hecate shakes her head resolutely.

“Then whatever for?”

Hands twisting, stomach twisting, Hecate bows her head.

“You were in distress. I wanted to comfort you. To distract you.”

“Hecate -”

“I needed to access an additional power source to have the resources to perform such a spell. I needed to be close to you to make the connection,” she says roughly, shoulder blades sharp against the cloth of her dress. “It was a violation. And using your magic as my own - well - I’m little better than Broomhead.”

Pippa lets out a shuddering, shivering, _“No_. _”_

She doesn’t seem to have the strength to say more and silence unfurls between them. Hecate can hear the tick of her watch and it twitches through her, the tension pulling her body taught in her distress.

“When you touched me,” Pippa whispers, finally, and her fingers slide at little nearer, “everything stopped. I couldn’t feel the death. I couldn’t feel the pain.”

Hecate’s head jerks up and her eyes find Pippa’s.

Pippa breathes another shaky breath. “Hecate - “ She struggles a little, distress making her chest tremble and Hecate winces at her own miserable selfishness at having this conversation while Pippa is so unwell.

“Hecate - I’m so sorry. I never wanted you to see me like that, to put you in that position. I was so terrified that I might have hurt you. That by touching you - ”

Hecate shakes her head sharply. “No. It’s my fault. I - I -”

Pippa hushes her, and this time her hand moves until it just nearly touches Hecate’s skirt. An invitation.

“You saved her,” Pippa whispers. She closes her eyes and her lips tug up ever so slightly as she sighs again. “I was so frightened and you saved her.”

“We saved her. It was your magic, too.”

Opening her eyes Pippa swallows and there’s something in her expression Hecate can’t read.

“Are you in pain now?” Hecate murmurs.

“A little. But it’s my own fault.”

“I would have done the same,” Hecate admits. “Let me see your hands?”

Pippa nods and Hecate gently takes the hand that rests beside her, uncurling the bandage and wincing at the bruised and battered flesh beneath the healing balm. She lowers Pippa’s hand to rest back on the bed before unwrapping the other, and then gathers them both between her own, fingers cautious against Pippa’s skin.

The healing spell stutters out of her and she blinks in dismay even as Pippa’s hands heal.

“You’re exhausted,” Pippa whispers, sliding her newly healed fingers up Hecate’s arms. “Will you rest?”

Hecate hesitates.

Pippa looks at her, patiently, softly.

She swallows down sharp anxiety and instead lets herself nod and Pippa shifts so the left side of the bed is clear and Hecate slips beneath the covers.

She lingers near the edge but Pippa slides back against her so that she’s nestled in Hecate’s arms.

“Alright?”

Hecate nods and Pippa brings a hand up to pull one of Hecate’s arms around her waist. She feels Pippa trying to work a spell and raises her head, looking down at her.

“Too weak,” Pippa sighs, sounding frustrated. “It’s just I don’t want to be disturbed. We both need a reprieve and a decent night of sleep.”

Hecate slowly parts Pippa’s fingers and let’s her own slide through, slotting them between her own. She feels Pippa’s magic hum feebly and, when Pippa squeezes her her hand in permission, she lets her own magic slowly flow out to steady Pippa’s.

The door shimmers as Pippa casts the spell and Hecate lowers her head back down, chin resting against Pippa’s shoulder.

She tries not to think of the kiss. Tries to focus instead on that Pippa doesn’t seem to hate her for it. Pippa’s thumb brushes over her hand where their fingers still meet, soothing her, and Hecate lets out a long, slow breath at the reassurance.

Exhaustion overtakes her and she sleeps, Pippa warm and safe in her arms.

______

**Pentangle’s School for Children, 1913**

Hecate stands on the broad stone step, stomach twisting with nerves as she takes a shivering breath and presses the bell. Happy voices echo from inside, along with laughter and squealing in reaction to the ring that chimes to announce her presence. A high voice hollers, “Ms Heartsong, someone’s at the door!”

She steps back sharply as the door flies open and pretty woman with dark hair smiles at her warmly. “Hello there, sorry for the racket, we’re just getting the children ready for a walk in the park.”

There’s a shriek behind her, and she smiles over her shoulder at the children who are  noisily dawning on winter things. Hecate can’t take her eyes off the warm coats, and colorful scarves, and wooly hats. Children of all ages toppling over as they shove their small feet into study boots, teasing one another as they jostle for balance.

“Ma’am?”

She starts, tearing her eyes away from a little boy who is clapping his mittened hands together, delighting in the muffled ‘ _whump_ ’ that it produces. An older boy scoots him out of the way to help a tiny girl tie her hat under her chin.

“Ma’am?”

Hecate swallows. “Perhaps, I - perhaps I am disturbing you?” She manages, hoping suddenly for an out.

The woman smiles, “Not at all, let me get this lot out the door -” She leans back, holding the door open with one hand as the children parade out under her arm. Hecate watches her count them, and the woman laughs a little with the two, clean-aproned women who follow the children out, bringing up the end of the line. Both women have kind, jolly faces, and Hecate’s chest feels very tight as the children arrange themselves in neat rows and begin to amble down the path, laughing and chattering the entire way.

“Now then, sorry about that. I’m Avery Heartsong. Come in, come in.”

Hecate hesitates, hovering on the stoop.

“Miss Pentangle. She is away?”

The woman sighs, and for the first time looks troubled. “Yes, her father has passed, I’m afraid. Gone home to take care of a few things.” She gestures Hecate in and Hecate, trembling, crosses the threshold.

“Sad business that, with her Mum passing on so recently, but I’m sure you’ve seen it in the papers.”

Hecate removes her hat, fingers tightening on the brim a she follows the woman through the entry hall.

“However, if you’re looking to adopt, I can help you sure enough. We have some unusual policies, you might have heard. We do quite an extensive background check and monthly follow ups throughout the first year, twice a year thereafter. And if you’re looking for a wee apprentice, you must also be able to provide additional educational opportunities and a good, well rounded home life.”

The woman moves and sits behind the desk of a warmly appointed office and Hecate gapes.

“Adopt?”

The woman blinks at her. “Well, that’s usually why we get visitors at Pentangle’s.”

Hecate shakes her head, whole body thrumming with anxiety.  

“That’s not why I’ve come.”

With undisguised surprise, Ms Heartsong gestures at the chair and Hecate haltingly sits.

There’s a pause where the curiosity on Ms Heartsongs face grows, in which Hecate fights to get the words out.

“I’d like” she says finally, fear making her words slow, “to set up a recurring donation. To Pentangle’s.” She reaches into her pocket and fumbles with the bank slip, unfurling it and pushing it across the table to Ms Heartsong who takes it and looks up at Hecate in surprise.

“It’s not much,” she tries to justify, heat flaring on her neck. “I’m a doctoral student. I don’t have much to give. But once I graduate, get settled with a career, I’ll arrange to increase the amount.”

The woman’s eyes light with gratitude. “That is very, very generous of you, Miss - Miss - ?“

Hecate shakes her head. “You can see that the bank has arranged that it be anonymous. There’s a spell on the transfer that will only allow to it initiate provided you do not disclose that we have met. Ever.”

Again the woman looks surprised. “Are you sure - ?”

“Quite.”

“May I ask why?”

Hesitating, Hecate shakes her head. “I’d rather not say. My coming in person was essential to set the spell in motion. Please don’t speak of this to anyone.”

She rises, and Ms Heartsong follows. She looks as though she wants to clasp Hecate’s gloved hand, but Hecate steps back and the woman merely smiles.

“We are very grateful. This place means so much to Miss Pentangle. She’s put her heart into making it not just an institution but a home. And the children will benefit so much from your assistance. Your generosity will ensure that we’re able to take care of our children with the best care and resources possible.”

Hecate nods, eyes smarting, and turns away.

The halls are quiet, but far from forlorn without the small charges who live here. She passes a sitting room as she moves back towards the entrance and spies toys, and games, and star charts, and alphabet blocks, and books - lots and lots of books - littering the floors and tables and chairs. They sit waiting for the children to return and take them up again, and Hecate can just imagine their bright, warm laughter as they troop back in from the cold for a warm supper.

She reaches the door and Ms Heartsong sees her out with continued murmurings of gratitude which she waves away.

Out on the stoop the day is chill and clear, with the low sun tinting the clouds that bunch up behind the chimney pots an opal-hued pink and purple.  

She takes a deep breath, her heart an aching bruise within her chest.

And transfers away.

______

**Nightstyx Hall, 1941**

The next day, Pippa is unsteady and shaky, the decree not to interfere in Events still heavy on her mind, the stress of the night before still written across her body.

Hecate fixes her a bath, blushingly guiding her to the bathroom, turning away as Pippa disrobes and enters the tub. Still, she lingers, and when the bubbles are high enough, fetches a book and sits on the edge, reading snippets here and there to Pippa who smiles at her acerbic commentary, through her eyes remain closed until it’s time to get out.

Hecate fetches a towel and holds it between them like a shield, eyes on Pippa’s face as she rises so Hecate can wrap the towel around her. Pippa stumbles at little as she climbs over the lip of the tub and Hecate catches her, heart beating as her arms fill with a warm, damp, sweet smelling weight. She holds her still, holds her steady, for longer than necessary, and Pippa clings to her, breath warm against her collarbone.

“Hecate,” she whispers, and Hecate freezes, hands splayed against Pippa’s warm back. There’s only the towel between her and Pippa’s skin, and the feeling of the cloth under her fingertips, the curve of Pippa beneath it, makes her sharply conscious of just how desperately Pippa affects her senses. “Do you think - “

Pippa breaks off, and Hecate wonders if she’s imagining that Pippa’s pressed herself a little closer against her.

“Do I think what?” She manages.

Pippa stays quiet and then pulls back, looking at her in a way that Hecate can’t read.

“Nothing.” She shakes her head as if clearing it and bites her lip.

“Last night,” Hecate tries, “last night you said you couldn’t go on anymore.” Her fingers tighten, pads of her fingertips securing Pippa beneath her hands, desperate not to let her slip away.

Pippa closes her eyes. “I know. I’m sorry. I don’t know how I can face another night like last night. Even without a threat to Julie Hubble.” She opens her eyes. “But I’ll rest. I’ll try again. I’ll manage.”

Hecate slowly raises a hand and brushes a stray hair that’s curling against Pippa’s cheek out of her face. “And I’ll work harder,” she assures her. “I’ll do better. I’m sorry I haven’t found a way to solve - ”

Pippa looks surprised and catches Hecate’s hand, holding it between them as her fingers brush along Hecate’s knuckles. It’s intimate in a way Hecate isn’t sure if it should be, and she tries not to shiver at the warmth it brings forth within her.

“You more than work hard enough, Hecate” Pippa murmurs. “You’ve been through so much. And yet you support me through all of this. You’re by my side each and every night - ”

“But I do _nothing_ ,” Hecate grinds out. “I watch you suffer and can do _nothing_.”

Pippa moves one of her hands up to trace along Hecate’s cheek. “All those years at Nightstyx,” Pippa breathes, fingers light against Hecate’s skin. “I should have done more. I should have protected you. Confronted Broomhead. Helped you escape.”

Hecate feels a tear roll down her cheek, unbidden. “You were there. After those lessons. Always. It was more than enough. Somedays, it was the only thing that was enough. Most days.”

Pippa shakes her head and Hecate twists the hand that’s caught between Pippa’s so she can hold Pippa’s instead. “How can you not see that I want to be here for you, the way you were for me.”

“But I was so helpless.” Pippa whispers.

“You were a constant. A comfort.” Hecate dips her head and catches Pippa’s eye. “But yes, I do feel quite helpless that I can’t do more. Not when it’s all my fault.”

Pippa shakes her head, eyes sparkling. “You promised you’d try not see it like that.”

And then, “Do you only stay out of guilt?”

It’s a whisper, hardly a gasp of air.

“No,” Hecate chokes out, hand squeezing Pippa’s, aching for her to understand, terrified that she will.

“No,” she says again, a little more desperately. She laughs a little, feeling powerless. “I feel responsible, for this, for all of this, but that’s not why I’m here. It’s why I ran. But it is not why I’ve stayed.”

Pippa looks at her. Brown eyes, and damp hair, and freckles everywhere, and Hecate’s heart grows suddenly shy. She squeezes Pippa’s hand again and pulls back, moving to linger on Pippa’s lower back instead, unwilling to leave her unsupported, unwilling to move fully away.

“Okay,” Pippa breathes, eyes strangely bright. “Okay.”

She shivers and Hecate blinks, runs a drying spell over her, as any sensible witch would have done ten minutes ago.

“There are things I’d like to try,” Pippa says softly, in a hesitant way that is unlike her. “The next time we get orders that an Event should go unreported.”

Hecate nods, thinking how she might try to make Pippa as comfortable as possible next time.

“Alright.”

Pippa looks at her, eyes soft as she moves back, head nestling in the crook of Hecate’s shoulder. Hecate can feel her lips brush accidentally against her neck as she comes in to rest, and gasps a little, as Pippa tucks herself against her. Her hands slide slowly up Pippa’s back, stopping just shy of the edge of the towel as she rests her chin against Pippa’s head.

She stands very still. Trying not to tremble with longing. Trying to control her trembling heart. She breathes out slowly, and Pippa’s fingers press a little more against her own back.

“I think,” Pippa says, and Hecate can feel the vibrations against her skin, “that after what happened with Broomhead, you took so much responsibility for what happened that night that it didn’t leave room for you to think much about everything that came before.”

Pippa’s fingers tighten as Hecate feels herself go cold, but when Pippa looks up at her, it’s with utter gentleness, and she slips her hands up to slide through the dark curtain of Hecate’s hair that still remains down from sleeping. Pippa’s fingertips are cool against Hecate’s scalp and she brushes the hair back away from Hecate’s face, eyes suddenly searching.

“I think you forget - or perhaps don’t want to remember - that you were a victim, Hecate. You were for a long time. And that what happened to you doesn’t get canceled out by what happened to me. Not ever. I was there. I remember. And you don’t have to be so strong about it, if you don’t want to be.”

And Hecate gasps in a breath, shock and pain slicing up through her lungs and into her heart as she fights to keep back tears long held in. Pippa’s hand trails down, fingers gentle against Hecate’s chin even as Hecate shakes her head in dismay.

“Yes,” Pippa whispers, “Yes.”

When Hecate can’t answer, Pippa looks at her knowingly. “I’m here for you too, you know.”

“It’s just,” Hecate tries, voice feeling like a cramp, “it’s far easier to hate myself -” She can’t continue.

“Than feel the pain of what was done to you?”

Hecate nods, desperate, and undone, and terribly, terribly vulnerable.

She feels hot tears on her cheeks and Pippa catches them with tender fingers.

“I just wanted a home,” Hecate gasps. “To learn. To have a place in the world.”

“I know,” Pippa whispers, her own voice thick with unshed tears. “I know.”

“That night, that first night here,” Hecate gasps out, “in your library. It looked like the home I’d always wanted for myself.”

 _For us_.

“And I got it instead.” Pippa bites her lip. “How could you not hate me?”

Hecate laughs a little sharply, a little wildly. “I _wanted_ that for you, Pipsqueak. It was the only thing that made you getting taken away better, knowing that you would have these things. I just wanted - I wanted - “

“To have them, too?”

“To have them _together_ ,” Hecate chokes out. And Pippa makes a ragged noise in the back of her throat, bringing Hecate in until their foreheads rest together.

“I wanted that, too,” she breathes.

Pippa’s back trembles, breath coming out in a rattle that brings Hecate back to their frigid days together in the filth of Birchwick’s. “You’re shivering,” Hecate murmurs, concerned. "You'll catch cold."

“I’m sorry, I - I’m so sorry.” Pippa leans more heavily against her, and Hecate can feel Pippa’s knees giving out as she clings to her.

She brings her arms down and tightens them around Pippa’s waist, holding her up. Their faces are still so close and Hecate can see the pain in Pippa’s eyes.

“You’re still so weak. Please, let me - ” Leaning Pippa back against the edge of the tub, she negotiates the space between them, one arm sliding  under Pippa’s legs as her other wraps around Pippa’s upper back. “I don’t dare transfer you.” It’s a relief to have the weight of Pippa in her arms, though her muscles protest a bit, and she moves them awkwardly through the space between the bathroom and Pippa’s bed.

It takes a good deal of strength not to drop Pippa and Pippa laughs loudly, and protests greatly the entirely of the trip. She sets her heavily down on the bed and moves to pull away, but Pippa’s arms tighten around Hecate’s neck, keeping her tugged forward so that she half kneels on the bed above Pippa. Their faces are very close together again and Pippa is suddenly looking very serious.

“I used to think,” she whispers, “after your sessions with Broomhead, when you’d come back drained and hurting, that I would go to Hell for you and back. If it meant you could be free.”

“You needn’t have been quite so literal about it,” Hecate admonishes, and feels a tear burn hotly down her cheek. It falls between them and Pippa shakes her head.

“It’s not so bad,” she murmurs, “when I get to see what you’ve become.”

“A dour and friendless old hag?”

Pippa grips her shoulders and stares at her.

“What on earth would make you think that?”

Hecate withdraws, but Pippa tugs her back.

“Hecate, no, look at me.” She peers into Hecate’s eyes, eyebrows drawing together in concern. “What makes you say that.”

Hecate shrugs, as well as she is able given her current position, and drops her gaze, feeling the familiar buzzing closing down her senses.

“Oh,” Pippa breathes, and she shifts so that she can pull Hecate down to rest alongside her. “Oh, my darling, Hiccup.”

Vaguely, Hecate feels Pippa entwine their fingers.

“Do you know what I see when I look at you, Hiccup?”

Hecate blinks, trying to focus, and shakes her head as her stomach tightens in dread.

“I see a woman who has overcome so many of life's’ challenges - poverty, abuse, lack of a proper education, loneliness, heartbreak, sorrow, isolation - ”

Pippa tugs Hecate’s hand over and across her body so the back of it it rests just above her heart. The towel hardly covers her, and the skin is there is warm and soft. Hecate can feel each steady pulse of Pippa’s heartbeat, and tries to match her breathing to it, shivering a little.

“I see a woman who has overcame it all,” Pippa continues. “And make a steady and stable life for herself. Got herself higher education despite the odds, made herself a home - and I do hope Cackle’s still stands, for I would dearly love to see it someday, darling. And rather than remain in isolation, I see a woman who has surrounded herself by people who care very much about her.”

“You?” Hecate tries.

Pippa laughs. “Of course _me_ , darling, but that’s not what I meant.” Pippa’s other hand slides behind her so that Hecate’s cradled against Pippa’s side, skin warm beneath her flushing cheek.

“I meant Ada,” Pippa says quietly. “And Dimity - though I know you like to pretend she’s just a nuisance - that woman would do anything to help you out of a spot of trouble if she felt you could accept it.” Pippa’s fingers begin to gently trail through her hair right above her ear. “And the girls. How they look to you. How true a teacher you are. Your desire to pass on knowledge, your drive to give them a strong foundation for the world. One such as you never had.”

Hecate closes her eyes and breathes out around the tears that once again seem close at hand.

“I learned it from you,” she whispers. “I learned it all from you.”

Pippa twists a bit a looks down at her. “How do you mean?”

 _Affection_. She wants to say. _How to love. Hope._

Instead she shakes her head, fingers tightening against Pippa’s in the hand that still rests above her heart. “I went to Pentangle’s. Right before the start of the First War. About a year after you had opened.”

Her eyes open and she finds Pippa looking very surprised. “Oh?”

Hecate shifts, drawing her hand back so that she can move onto her side, elbow on the pillow to hold her up as she looks across at Pippa.

“What you’ve done there - how different it is from what we had - “ She shakes her head, at a loss, undone with emotion, and Pippa’s eyes grow very bright.

“I had no idea you’d been.”

Hecate smiles, can’t help the welling up of pride and love that surges through as she gazes down at Pippa. “You know, we take several Pentangle’s girls a year. They’re all well adjusted. Kind. Bright.”

“Your secret favorites,” Pippa teases, but her eyes are lit with tears, her smile blindingly bright.

Hecate scoffs. “I haven’t got favorites.”

“Hmmm,’ Pippa intones, fingers grasping at Hecate’s chin again in undisguised affection. “And how did Mildred Hubble come to have your handkerchief?”

Biting her lip, Hecate very gently takes Pippa’s hand away from her face and holds it somberly. “You aren’t upset with me?”

“Hiccup, whatever for?”

“Because I gave it away, because you gave it to me, and I gave it away.”

Pippa gazes up at her, utterly baffled. “You kept that handkerchief for over thirty years. So I know it must have meant something to you, Hiccup. And seeing Mildred Hubble with it is only yet another example when I say how much it means to get to see you on the other side of everything you faced in your youth.”

Hecate blushes. “I could never get a gift for you. When we were young.”

Pippa moves her hand out of Hecate’s, fingers gentle as they make the well charted journey down Hecate’s arm.

“I didn’t care, Hiccup. I only wanted you to be safe and happy. And furthermore, that means I only know how much it must have meant, to give something like that away.”

Her fingers drop to the watch that hangs between them. “You haven’t got many possessions. I know you’re precious with them. Just as you are with your magic.” She smiles. “You’re a remarkable witch, Hecate Hardbroom.”

Hecate tugs at the towel with careful fingers from where it’s threatening to settle indecently low, and clears her throat. “You should be resting. I fear I’m distracting you from it.”

For some reason, Pippa blushes magnificently at that, and Hecate busies herself checking her for fever until Pippa swats her away.

“Rest,” Hecate admonishes.

Pippa looks like she wants to say something, her eyes are so warm and liquid that Hecate almost prompts her to reveal what she’s thinking. But she holds back, and with a snap, dresses Pippa in a soft, pale robe instead.

Pippa bites her lip and takes a breath, eyes fluttering shut. Her hand comes out, sweeping across the covers, searching, until Hecate takes it.

She quietly sits on the edge of the bed as Pippa’s breathing evens out.

Her heart full and finally ready.   


	14. Chapter XIV: Operation Hubble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re not Agatha, are you?” Hecate peers at her, agitation drawing up inside her like a cramp. It would be just the thing if Agatha were to stage a coup on the day The Great Wizard was due at the school. She frowns. “Tell me something - a personal detail - that only Ada Cackle would know.”
> 
> The woman sighs.
> 
> “Tell me or I’ll hex you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was so much fun to write. can't wait and hope you love it as much as i do - love hearing your thoughts! :)

**Nightstyx Hall, 1941**

Later that day they track down Mabcock, anxious for news.

She, unsurprisingly, is found in Ada’s office. Both of them look tense and worn out and Hecate frowns at them as she helps guide Pippa into one of Ada’s armchairs.

“Bad news?”

Ada grimaces. “It seems we’ve been caught out. When we relocated to Nightstyx I did, of course, have to inform The Great Wizard of our movement. The trouble is, it appears word has gotten to Mrs. Hallow that there’s some sort of secret operation happening on these premises. So now his Greatness is coming for an inspection.”

Mabcock purses her lips. “There’s not enough time for us to relocate. We’re back on duty for monitoring Events tonight, though I dare say Pentangle could use leave, were it even possible.”

Pippa pales but seems to steady herself in Hecate’s gaze.

“We’ll simply have to stay underground while he is here. We can hide away well enough.”

“I’m not so sure,” Ada frets and Mabcock frowns.

“How do you mean?”

Hecate purses her lips. “The Great Wizard is uncompromising in his quest to sniff out anyone tainting what he considers ‘magical purity,’ or practicing magical experimentations, or aiding in the Resistance. I fear that he will be more than thorough in his examination of the school. Especially if he feels he has reason to look closely.”

“So what do you propose we do?” Mabcock looks from Ada to Hecate and Hecate bites back a smile she hardly feels is appropriate given the situation.

“We distract him,” she says and chances a glance at Pippa. She has to look away when it only makes her want to smile more.

“By charming him?”

Fighting to for composure, Hecate nods over at Ada, but there’s no hiding the pride in her voice. “Yes, by charming him.”

Pippa grins. “With some of our very best students.”

______

There’s a flurry of activity in the castle that day as Ada and Hecate set about organizing the school for The Great Wizard’s inspection. Banisters get polished, floors swept, classes are cancelled as Miss Bat organizes a chanting recital. The sound of singing filters out from the dining hall to the potions lab where Hecate has Maud, Enid, and Mildred lined up in a row before their cauldrons.

“Miss Hardbroom, isn’t a Tension-Taming Tincture a bit advanced for us?” Maud worries.

Hecate inclines her head.  “While it is a Level VII brew, given your success with the Wide Awake Potion last week, and your fine work identifying when an elixir has been distilled to its Point of Potency, I have the utmost confidence that you will skillfully perform the task at hand. Even so, a witch worth her spell book knows that nothing is gained for want of practice. And so practice we shall.”

The girls stand up a little taller behind their cauldron, cheeks pinking and Hecate sniffs, tamping down the sensation that Pippa is _right_. She is downright _soft_ these days. She nods at the girls and waves a hand, instructions appearing on the board behind her.

“Now, who can tell me what the Point of Potency is for a tincture containing a mixture of lemon balm and dragon claw?”

Mildred’s hand shoots up. “The tincture will glow pale yellow and then, once you’ve stirred thrice clockwise -”

“- it will turn silver and start to curdle!” Enid cuts in, enthusiasm radiating off her in a way Hecate has rarely seen prior to this past month at Nightstyx.

“And that’s when you have to add - ” Maud grins.

“The seed of a golden apple!” They chorus together with bright, delighted smiles and Hecate feels like there’s a balloon around her heart, growing fuller with every passing moment.

“Then the tincture will turn clear as spring water and that’s when it’s reached its P.O.P.” Mildred summarizes.

“Precisely.” She manages to keep her face impassive and waves a hand, ingredients materializing on the desk before the girls. “Now, what are the best methods for maintaining proper cauldron temperature?”

Three hands shoot into the air, Mildred’s fastest of all.

And Hecate purses her lips, pleased.

______

The day of the inspection dawns rainy and chill, dark clouds hanging low over the castle and everything is wet and damp as Ada paces before the great doors of the entry hall. She is wearing a long, black gown that Hecate has never seen her in, and it only makes Hecate more on edge.

“Ada, what in the name of Merlin’s spell book are you wearing?” Dimity mutters.

“Just want to look my best for The Great Wizard.”

“You’re not Agatha, are you?” Hecate peers at her, agitation drawing up inside her like a cramp. It would be just the thing if Agatha were to stage a coup on the day The Great Wizard was due at the school. She frowns. “Tell me something - a personal detail - that only Ada Cackle would know.”

The woman sighs.

“Tell me or I’ll hex you.”

“Fine. Hecate Hardbroom, you like to use purple ink in your private writings. You like to pretend that it’s scandalous and unprofessional a color - even though it’s your favorite color for ink. The last time you threatened to hex me was the night I disturbed you while you were writing in your private potions journal. You said that if I _ever_ told _anyone_ \- ”

“Enough,” Hecate mutters, ears flaming as Mildred bites down hard on her lip and stifles a laugh.

Hecate turns away and goes to stand by the staircase, hands twisting as the minutes tick by.

The castle is unusually quiet, the girls all in place, Pippa and Operation Hades hidden away below stairs. Esmeralda has taken Ethel Hallow out for a long walk around the rainy grounds, and hadn’t needed to be prompted to conceal reason for the extended calisthenics from her younger sister.

There’s a clap of thunder, followed by an echoing knock on the door, and Hecate jumps in succession at each resounding boom.

“Miss Hardbroom,” Mildred breathes frantically from next to her. “What if he finds out about me?”

“For Merlin’s sake, Mildred, we don’t plan on telling him that you’re Ordinary.”

“But I’m not Ordinary.”

Hecate closes her eyes, frustrated at herself. “I very well know that Mildred Hubble, and I’m glad to hear you do too. Just focus on what we practiced and you will do the school proud.”

Mildred nods, braids swinging, and Hecate inhales, drawing herself up to full height as the large oak doors swing open and The Great Wizard appears, shaking raindrops from his hat and frowning around the entrance hall as though as if expecting to see magical impropriety at every turn.

“Your Greatness.” Ada and Hecate step forward and sweep deep Well Mets, and behind her, Hecate hears three small hands come to foreheads as the girls bow as well.

“Headmistress Cackle. Deputy Hardbroom. My condolences for the loss of Cackles, nothing to be done, I’m afraid. Glad to see you have found a castle with such a reputable history to relocate to.”

Hecate goes cold, and straightens, watching The Great Wizard through narrowed eyes as he sweeps around the hall, inspecting the red runner and eyeing the enchanted roses.

“I dare say I hope you are maintaining this institution’s reputation. I should not like to have to take disciplinary action should I find evidence of infractions against my ordinances.”

Ada shoots her a look and Hecate grits her teeth.

“Your Excellency, we welcome you and bid you to proceed with a thorough examination. We are upstanding members of the magical community, as are the girls, I’m sure you will see.” Ada bustles forward and guides The Great Wizard up the stairs.

The chanting recital passes by smoothly. The girls sing in harmony under Miss Bat’s direction and The Great Wizard nods approvingly. Hecate can see him speaking quietly with Ada from where she stands at the back of the room.

When they’re done, Hecate ushers Maud, and Enid, and Mildred up onto stage for their display, hardly breathing as they work together, in a different sort of harmony, smashing centipede eggs and grinding dill weed, just as they have practiced all week.  

Mildred hesitates a little when it comes to counting cauldron stirs, but she looks up, mouthing each number and Hecate holds a steady in her gaze, nodding slightly with each stir to help Mildred keep the count.

The resulting brew is a dazzlingly clear Tension-Taming Tincture, a true triumph even by Hecate’s standards, and The Great Wizard even claps his hands in approval at their success.

There girls are delighted, giddy and grinning, and it’s in good spirits - along with an additional boost from the brew which The Great Wizard samples with a near chortle -  that his Excellency moves from room to room of the castle, inspecting each space with less and less scrutiny as they delight him at every turn.

Dimity and Ada trail after him, Hecate and the girls bringing up the rear, as he circles back down and stands once more in the main hall, removing his hat as he looks approvingly up at the high glass windows.

“Remarkable institution.”

Ada beams.

“Glad to see the rumors have all been unfounded. Never doubted. All is well that -”

He breaks off, a frown bringing his bushy eyebrows close together.

Hecate swallows, heart tightening as he turns and slowly stares at the expanse of wall where the basement door stands in unremarkable innocence.

“What’s this,” he grunts, eyebrows still joined up, jovial nature suddenly dark and suspicious. “What’s behind that door? I feel something on the other side that should not be - ”

The hall is utterly silent as The Great Wizard starts forward, hand reaching for the nob.

The door flies open.

The Great Wizard jumps.

Julie Hubble stands framed in the arch of the doorway, surprise etched comically across her own her features.

“Oh! Father. Didn’t know you’d be droppin’ round today. Would have polished myself up a bit, forgive me.”

She gestures at her brown breeches and the dark, jewel-green sweater of a well-worn Women's Land Army uniform.

“Mum!” Mildred shouts, and Hecate wants to fall through the floor into Hades itself.

The Great Wizard looks from Julie - in her obviously Ordinary wardrobe - to Mildred, then glowers at Ada. “What is the meaning of - ”

“Yes, dear?” From behind Julie, Pippa pokes her head out of the dark doorway and smiles at Mildred. She’s wearing her best tea dress, a kerchief, and inexplicably large sunglasses.

Mildred looks confused, but Julie nods imperceptibly at her.

“What - what were you doing in the basement?” Mildred stutters. She looks like she wants to run to Julie but stays put, as if sensing something important is at hand.

“Exactly like I would like to know,” The Great Wizard huffs, mustache twitching in agitation.

“Oh, Father,” Julie smiles, stepping forward and taking his hand. “I can’t tell you how grateful we are for your service.”

“F-father?”

“Do you prefer Vicar? Oh, well, anyway, we are truly grateful.”

“Grateful? Grateful for what? Vicar? And who are you?” He looks past her to Pippa who has come to stand by Mildred, “And who is this?”

Ada steps forward and places her hand on Julie’s arm. “You know we at _Saint Helen’s_ are always striving to help those in need.”

Julie grins at her.

“In need - ?“ The Great Wizard sputters, “Helen who? Headmistress Cackle, what is meaning of this?”

“Ah Father, excuse me, how rude. Let me introduce Julie Hubble, she’s come up from the village - you see the Women’s Land Army was keeping a store of goods on site before our arrival, seeing as they’ve had trouble with looters trying to take their tractor engines and petrol from their farm sheds to sell for profit. When we moved in, we assured them that the sisters of Saint Helen’s - _a private Catholic school for girls_ \- would help provide them with additional cover. These are such hard times, and food production is so vital to all who live in this country. I’m so sorry I forgot to mention it, but I know an esteemed _vicar_ such as yourself would understand the need for charity.”

She gives a significant look at Julie and then looks back to The Great Wizard who stands with his mouth slightly open.

Ada shrugs. “Given how surprised we were to discover locals using the school for such purposes, we went ahead and made the best of it. Neighborly nature, and all.”

Julie smiles charmingly up at The Great Wizard. “They’ve been such a help. Looters don’t dare come up here, you know.” She drags her eyes down Hecate’s long, black form and back up to her scowl. “After all, would you cross this nun?”

The Great Wizard’s mouth snaps shut, as if deciding that no, no he would not.

“Glad - glad to be of service,” he stumbles over he words, casting Ada a bewildered look. “But who is this?” He glances over at Pippa, as if still unsure.

“This is our librarian, Miss Cinquefoil. French refugee.” Ada cuts in smoothly.  

“Ah, oui,” Pippa says.

“And her charming daughter, Mildred, whose talents you witnessed this afternoon.”

“Quite talented,” The Great Wizards mumbles absently.

Julie slaps her hands against her thighs. “Well then, thanks Miss Cinquefoil for your assistance storing the petrol.”

“De rien,” Pippa demurs. Hecate stares.

“Best be going, storm’s breaking up and I’ll want to get back to village before dark.”

She shakes the hand of a very startled looking Great Wizard, squeezes Ada’s arm, winks at Mildred, and saunters out the door, muttering a low “ _Sister_ ,” to a horrified Hecate as she passes.

The door swings shut behind her and Dimity laughs.

“Locals. Got to love ‘em.”

The Great Wizard shakes himself, as if coming out of a dream. “I say, Headmistress Cackle, this is all _most_ irregular.”

“Oh, I know you’re Greatness,” Ada sighs, suddenly looking ashamed in a way Hecate knows she most certainly isn’t. “I felt we had no choice when they discovered us but to play out a cover story. They really have no idea that we’re anything more than a school for girls that took up residence here when our own school go evacuated. Which isn’t too far from the truth, and yet far enough from the truth that Ordinaries have no thought to question us. And it _is_ ever so important to maintain food production in times such as these.”

Stroking at his beard, The Great Wizard hums, looking thoughtful. “Indeed, indeed.”

“That must be how the rumors made their way to you,” Hecate manages, catching on and glaring over at Ada.

“Yes,” she says, airily, “I dare say someone has made it out to be much more than it is. We were simply trying to maintain our own cover.”

The Great Wizard places his hat back on his head with a sigh. “Too right. Too right.” He peers after Julie and shakes his head. “See if you can relocate the goods to a protected garden shed on the property. I would prefer, if this is to continue, that the Ordinaries have as little contact with the girls and the castle as possible. Least there be an unfortunate revelation.”

Ada nods, sweeping a grateful Well Met.

“Well then. Headmistress Cackle. Deputy Hardbroom. Miss Drill. Miss Cinquefoil. Girls.” He inclines his head in farewell, and then turns and steps into the night, the door falling shut behind him.

There’s silence and then Hecate rounds on Ada.

“What. In. Merlin’s. Mighty. Name -”

Dimity is laughing, and so is Pippa, and Hecate wishes they would cease because Ada is smiling too and it’s all very distracting when she is so utterly _livid_ at them all.

“I’m sorry - I’m sorry -” Ada manages, around chortles. “It’s just Theta and I worried that his Greatness would get to snooping in the wrong places. We needed a diversion. And Julie Hubble needed relocation. I simply took a previous misconception and - well - built on it.”

“Theta?” Hecate hisses.

“Major-General Mabcock,” Pippa chokes out, cheeks very pink as she removes her scarf and glasses, looking like she can hardly hold in her mirth.

“Miss _Cinquefoil_?” Hecate turns, bearing down on her.

Pippa bites her lip and shrugs. “It was a last ditch addition. Julie was here as back up, if needed. Silly of us not to plan for what would happen if Mildred saw her. We improvised.”

“Very well too, I’d say,” Julie says, popping her head back through the door, the rest of her following as she shakes raindrops from her curls.

“ _Mum!_ ” Mildred races forward and flings her arms around her mother, legs coming up to wrap around her as Julie catches her, laughing and stumbling a bit under her weight.

“Millie.”

Pippa catches Hecate’s gaze, her eyes a little wet, and Hecate feels herself let out a long, slow breath, tension starting to untwist itself from around her lungs.

“You knew about this?”

Pippa blushes. “Not until just this afternoon when Mabcock brought in a delightful woman by the name of Julie Hubble and told me the plan for if you lot had any trouble.”

“Delightful,” Dimity repeats, eyes on Julie.

“Hubble shaped trouble,” Hecate growls. But there’s no real ire in it. Not when Mildred is still clinging to her mother, both in happy tears, and not when her heart is all too warm because of it.

“Now then,” Ada says, clapping her hands. “Why don’t we see if Miss Tapioca can make us something special for dinner. I dare say you all deserve it after the spectacular display this afternoon.”

“Spectacular,” Dimity repeats, sounding dazed.

Mildred releases her mother and tugs her by the hand, smile happily as she drags her over, bright eyes moving from Julie, to Pippa, to Hecate.

“I’m starving,” she says.

“Subterfuge is hard work,” agrees Enid.

“I think I need to lie down,” Maud groans.

Hecate very, very much agrees with Maud.

______

Julie Hubble is a good sport as Mildred drags her around the castle, giving her a very thorough tour. She chatters as she pulls her through the Cackle’s library and then back out into the hall and into the potions lab. Pippa and Hecate trail behind, watching in stunned amusement as Mildred hardly pauses for breath.

“And then I met Miss Pentangle -  who lives down in the basement with Hades -”

“With _who?_ ”

“Becalm yourself Miss Hubble, she does not mean literal Hades. That would be preposterous.”

Pippa pinches her, hard, and Hecate lifts a serene brow back at her full of carefully, crafted nonchalance as Julie moves around the lab, peering at glowing vials and nodding along as Mildred rattles off what different ingredients do.

“Then what is this ‘Hades,’” Julie murmurs, bending to look at a vial of crushed unicorn horn.

“Secret Operation,” Mildred chirps, looking back at Pippa. “But secret _what_ I haven’t figured out yet.”

“And she won’t.” Hecate says firmly.

Pippa smiles weakly at Julie who regards them both frankly. “Funny thing, it is. How I was on shift at the factory, having been pulled off the farm to work the floor. Planes are overhead, bombs start falling. I thought I was done for - what with the first factory bombing and all and on account that in this war it doesn’t seem there are many second chances - when suddenly - _poof_ \- I’m not there anymore. I’m in this lovely home for girls, and nothing about it is Ordinary -  as you lot call it - and I can tell you that. Floating flower pots and ceilings like stars - have never seen anything like it in all my days. Interrupted the little ones bedtime stories, I’m afraid. Made quite the entrance, I did, arriving with no notice in the middle of their play room.”

“You sent her to Pentangle’s?”

Hecate shrugs uncomfortably. “I couldn’t think of where else to send her and the wards here wouldn’t have allowed her to be transferred in.”

Pippa is gazing at her, something peculiar in her expression. She blinks as Julie comes closer and Hecate fights down a blush.

“Came to hear that it was because there was a secret organization that spirited me away from danger. That it was out of the Operation’s protocol, but that there was a strong desire to get me back to my daughter.” She wraps her arms around Mildred and Mildred closes her eyes and buries her face in Julie’s sweater.

Julie looks up, eyes wet. “And I thank you for that. Made me sign away my life in non-disclosure forms and I have threats of hexation if I breathe a word about it, but thank you. I owe you each a great deal.”

Hecate shakes her head and Pippa smiles at Julie and Mildred. “We’d do anything for Mildred,” Pippa says, eyes bright. “Our work can be rather dark, I’m afraid, and your daughter has brought so much joy into the castle. Into all our lives.”

Mildred blushes and ducks out from her mother, coming to wrap her arms around Pippa. She grins up at Hecate from Pippa’s arms and Hecate has the purse her lips and swallow down the tremulous emotions that have her blinking a bit too rapidly than is her liking.

“There now,” Pippa sighs, pressing Mildred back, to look into her face. “You did brilliantly at the display today. And now, I think Miss Hardbroom and I wouldn’t mind a sample of the Tension-Tamer, if you’d be so inclined. It’s been quite a day. Besides, I’m sure your mum would love to see your work.”

Mildred nods eagerly and traipses towards the door, grinning back at them as she skips out to fetch the potion.

Once she’s gone, the adults stare at each other, a little uncertainty.

“You said your work is very dark,” Julie murmurs, eyes flickering between them.

Hecate nods curtly.

“Would there be anyway that I could help? Anyway at all?”

“I really don’t think -” Hecate begins, but she thinks of Pippa, cold and shaking, back trembling as she’s wracked by an Event. Thinks of all the magic she knows, none of which has has held a the key to Pippa’s freedom. She breaks of and sighs sharply, frustration and helplessness waring within her.

Pippa shifts slightly closer and Hecate takes a steadying breath, unused to asking for help, or having it offered, for that matter. “I do not know how you might assist, but our challenge is two fold,” she admits. “One: We seek a way to sound an alert if the Germans plan on targeting a specific location on the home front. Two: We seek to free Miss Pentangle from whatever ties her to this awareness of mass destruction that allows her to act as our current monitoring system.”

Hecate quickly explains about Pippa’s symptoms, and when she’s through Julie is looking at Pippa and her eyes are very wet. “Oh, sweets, what a terrible burden.”

Pippa, who has gone very still and silent during Hecate’s explanation bites her lip, and Julie takes her hands. “I might not be magic, but I know a thing or two about constructing bombs and airplanes. Might be able to lend a hand at figuring out how to keep ‘em from falling, eh?”

Pippa nods, taking a shaky breath. “We’ve been thinking - I’ve been thinking - that we need to create some sort of machine that can do the work I do. The only trouble is that we can’t identify the source of the magic that allows me to do what I do. If we could -”

“We could take it out. Put it to work in something that’s not you.” Julie nods.

Hecate bristles. “I dislike the idea of using a _machine_. Hades might be a blend of Ordinary and magical practices but - “

“But we keep spells in objects all the time,” Pippa reasons. “Founding stones, broomsticks even.”

“Yes, but a machine is so - so _scientific_.”

Pippa laughs, but it’s bright, and affectionate, and fond.  

“Oh Hecate, you’re a potions mistress. A scientist by nature.”

Hecate looks startled, but her answer is lost to Mildred reappearing, the corked bottle of Tension-Tamer in her palm.

“Miss Hardbroom is a marvelous scientist, Mum.” She says sagely, uncorking the vial and handing it to Hecate. “If Mrs. Sadler had been half as interesting as her, I would have learned a lot more in chemistry class.”

Julie laughs and Hecate blushes.

“Let me help,” she implores to Hecate, hand reaching out to drawn Mildred close to her side. She rests her chin atop Mildred’s head and smiles softly. “Please, after all you’ve done for my girl. All you’ve done for me.”

Mildred looks between them all and Hecate sighs.

“I suppose science and magic do intersect, now and then. As do the do the Ordinary, and the Extraordinary. I’ve learned that much.”

She arches an eyebrow down at Mildred who flushes purple.

Julie grins, and Pippa squeezes her elbow and Julie catches the movement and her smile widens before Mildred pulls her away and they all head down to dinner.

Hecate gives Mildred’s flush a run for its money all the way.


	15. Chapter XV: The Heart Is Like a Door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mildred trips forward and thrusts the parcel upon Hecate’s desk, snow splattering across her papers and Hecate jumps again.
> 
> “Oops, sorry, Miss Hardbroom - ” She dabs at the wet with her equally lumpy and sodden scarf, only succeeding in making the matter worse. “- Mum and I went foraging!”
> 
> “F-foraging?” She doesn’t know why the word doesn’t fit into her mouth properly. Perhaps it’s because it’s the last one she would expect. But _‘Mum’_ wouldn’t fit any better she realizes, and sniffs, snapping her fingers so the papers dry in a ruffling breeze.
> 
> She casts a weary eye over Mildred and her snow-covered mother. Meets Pippa’s laughing eyes. Huffs and repeats the spell.  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am BACK. This is officially longer than anything I ever dreamed of writing. Thank you to all who have been reading. Your comments mean the WORLD and def have kept me motivated to keep going. I'm excited about the final chapters of this story and can't wait to share. xox

**Nightstyx Hall, 1941**

She tells herself it doesn’t bother her.

She does. She really does.

Tells herself she’s being uptight. And selfish.

 _And jealous,_ a small voice whispers in the back of her head.

She shakes it away as if the insidious thought were merely a gnat, and grips her pen harder until her fingers cramp.

It’s just that she can’t help the way it makes her feel to look around and see the potions lab bathed in its typical early morning sunlight. To see Maud sitting curled in a chair by a bubbling cauldron, typically worrying her lower lip between her teeth as she reads. Or to see Pippa in her typical chair with Enid leaning up against her.

_Typical._

But Mildred Hubble is nowhere to be seen.

 _Untypical_.

And Hecate knows she ought not to fuss about it. But it makes her heart feel wrong, and her eyes feel wet, and her stomach uneasy all the same.

And there’s a crunch and she looks down in dismay to see she’s utterly broken her best quill nib.

She drops the pen and sits, starting at her hands, feeling rather childish at her sudden urge to cry.

Because of course Mildred Hubble is off with her mother.

Of course she is.

It’s the natural way of things.

Or so she’s heard.

Not having any first hand experience to confirm for herself.

And she knows she’s being foolish. She can’t seem to understand how she’s worked herself to this point of _caring_. It’s rather indecent and inappropriate. And she dares not think of all the mornings where Mildred has sat before her tousled hair, and sleepy eyes, and why in Merlin’s name those times seem to have _mattered_  -

The door bangs open and she jumps, eyes snapping up to see a snow covered Mildred, arms wrapped around a large wooden basket, looking as pleased as Hecate’s ever seen her, Julie Hubble on her tail.

“Morning,” Mildred chirps, cheeks pink as she shakes off the snow from a lumpily knitted hat that perches atop her braids. “Sorry we’re so late, lost track of time a bit.”

She grins up at her mother, and Julie nudges her further into the room so she can shut the door, shaking snow from her own curls as she goes.

Hecate stares at them, at a loss.

“Where were you, Mil?” Enid cranes around Pippa, leaning more fully against her to try to peer into Mildred’s basket.  

Mildred trips forward and thrusts the parcel upon Hecate’s desk, snow splattering across her papers and Hecate jumps again.

“Oops, sorry, Miss Hardbroom - ” She dabs at the wet with her equally lumpy and sodden scarf, only succeeding in making the matter worse. “- Mum and I went foraging!”

“F-foraging?” She doesn’t know why the word doesn’t fit into her mouth properly. Perhaps it’s because it’s the last one she would expect. But ‘ _Mum’_ wouldn’t fit any better she realizes, and sniffs, snapping her fingers so the papers dry in a ruffling breeze.

She casts a weary eye over Mildred and her snow-covered mother. Meets Pippa’s laughing eyes. Huffs and repeats the spell.

Julie squeals as warm air washes over her and Mildred beams at her in delight.

“Magic, Mum. It’s the bats.” She turns back and begins rummaging in the basket. “Yessiree, we got hazelnuts and chestnuts, and we found some rose hips - Mum says we should all be getting more vitamin C least we get _scurvy -”_

Hecate can’t stop gapping. Can’t believe Mildred Hubble is _here with her_ when she could be _elsewhere with her mother_. She jumps for a third time when Pippa moves behind her and ghosts a hand down the back of her arm before balancing herself on the desk to peer down at Mildred’s bounty with interest.

“And we found some bittercress and only just a handful of blackberries, though they’re pretty much frozen solid. Oh, and - “ she rummages in her pockets and pulls out a handful of something that spills and bounces down and across the surface of the desk. “-oops, acorns. Lots of acorns!”

Julie places her hands on Mildred’s shoulders and smiles. “Need a bit of treatment, but they make a lovely flour after. Might be a boost to a diet of mostly National Loaf and a few magically enhanced veg. Here - “ she unloops a satchel from her back and pulls out a collection of pine needles. “Needle tea, good for a cold, should one happen by. Know you lot work long hours around here, best be a bit preventative.”

Hecate finds her voice. “And how would you know the properties of pine needles, _Ms_. _Hubble_.”

“Might not be a witch, but doesn’t mean I don’t know my way around this world. Me gran used to make a cuppa warmth out of needles, always set us right.”

She kisses Mildred on top of her head and Mildred grins.

“Mum and I used to go camping all the time when I was little. She taught me everything I know about the woods. Like you’ve taught me everything I know about a cauldron, Miss Hardbroom.” She turns and tugs her mother towards the store cupboards. “Come see what I’ve been working on, we come here _every_ morning and Miss Hardbroom and Miss Pentangle teach us all sorts of things. Like Sleep Serums and Pepper Up Potions. Once we made a Levitating Brew even. It was the bats. Mornings are always my favorite here, Mum, I can’t wait to show you -”

Mildred’s voice fades as she tugs Julie deeper into the stores, and Hecate sits very still, cheeks very pink.

She looks up to find Pippa watching her, something playing at the corners of her mouth that makes her think that Pippa can read her far too easily. She casts her eyes skyward and brushes a few acorns from her papers before plucking one to hold between two long fingers, examining it with a critical eye.  

“Miss Nightshade. Miss Spellbody. What can you tell me about the magical properties of acorns?”

Maud’s book get shoved aside and Enid’s suddenly wedged between her and Pippa, looking very eager.

“Not much,” Maud confesses, and Enid shakes her head.

“But you’ll tell us, right?”

They stare at her, eyes bright.

“Yes,” she says, and she very nearly smiles. “I shall.”

______

It’s not long before Hecate can’t remember what they ever did without Julie Hubble.

It’s an adjustment at first to be sure.

She baits her more than she ought to. She sneers more than she should.

If she admits to it, she makes Julie’s first week at the castle little less than pleasant.

But Mildred Hubble has certainly learned nothing less than her intrepidness from her mother, and it’s in the middle of Julie’s second week at Nightstyx, and approximately the thirtieth meal that Julie has thrust in front of her, demanding that she eat, that she realizes her value.

Because she does eat it this time.

And she does feel better after.

More focused. More hopeful.

And so she resists less when Julie badgers her into the thirty-first meal since her arrival. And the next morning the thirty-second and -  it’s bewildering to Hecate that anyone can manage to be so single minded - the thirty-third as well. But it also occurs to her that eating regularly has stopped her days from bleeding together into one long loop between the halls and classrooms and the darkness of the underworld below. And so she eats when she ought to and learns not to complain about it.

She saves her objections for the machine Julie is cobbling together in Laboratory C instead.   

“And just what is - ” she casts a disparaging eye down and back up the humming, vibrating heap of metal, “- this contraption?”

Julie waves a wretch up at her from where she lies on her back on the floor, bolting something to the bottom.

“Energy control system. Or something like it. Rudimentary, but it’s a start.”

“Control?”

“That’s right,” Julie slides out from under the device and sits, a curl falling out from the handkerchief she has ties back her hair. “Rather than a holder for magic, it’s a holder for energy.” She scoots around to the other side of the device and dips back under, overalls gathering dust at the knees as she goes. “There must be something on one of your books about converting magic to energy? Electricity? How do those two interact anyway?”

Hecate frowns and taps her nails on the edge of the desk. “I suppose it is a lead to explore.”

There’s a banging and Julie pops back out. “Has it been studied much?”

She sniffs. “Not by me.”

Julie casts an eye over her. “Look, I know you’re a traditional one, and that has its place too. We’re just trying for options, eh? Just to know.”

Hecate ducks a nod. “Of course.”

Grinning Julie gestures up at her with the wrench, “If we can trap a spell in here, we might just be able to direct it where we want. That’s how I’m thinking, see.”

“A container rather than a witch.”

“Right-o. Pentangle said something about a Founding Stone?”

“Yes. A magical container made from amber. But those are very arcane. A very old magic.”

“All magic was new once,” Julie muses, fishing in her pocket for a pencil and slip of paper which she jots some numbers down on. “Humans - and witches, too, I suppose - haven’t gotten smarter, just learned different ways of doing things. Adaption, I think it’s called. Sometimes old is better, sometimes new. But anyway, old doesn't mean untouchable. Sometimes a thing gets lost, but it doesn’t mean it can’t be found again.”

Hecate swallows, thinking of Pippa. Old and new. Lost then found. She meets Julie’s eyes and nods.

“Understood. I’ll see what I can discover.”

Julie grins. “Excellent.”

______

Events still occur steadily, Pippa still faces them with a quiet determination that would cause Hecate to weep if she weren’t so focused on making sure Pippa is comfortable in the aftermath. Somehow Julie always seems to appear just after, taking Pippa’s other elbow and helping Hecate guide her to her room.

“There you go, sweets,” Julie sighs, getting Pippa settled and propping pillows behind her. “You’re in good hands.” She nods at Hecate and Hecate produces the Sleeping Serum that Pippa’s been using ever since the night of Julie’s endangerment at the factory. The nightmares have been debilitating ever since, and though Hecate is loathed to medicate Pippa, it does seem to be the only thing that helps.

Pippa takes the dosage obediently, and Hecate’s stomach twists, remembering Birchwick’s. But Pippa merely takes her hand, eyes slipping shut, and Hecate breathes more easily as Pippa’s chest begins to rise and fall in a gentle rhythm.

“There,” Julie sighs, and looks over at her. She nods her head towards the door and Hecate presses Pippa’s hand before moving it to lay across her stomach. For a moment she wishes she could lean in and brush a kiss against Pippa’s forehead, and she blushes, feeling quite out of sorts at the intensity of the desire.

She trails after Julie, lights fading with a gesture of her fingers as she goes. She pauses at the door, looks back, and only when she’s sure Pippa is sleeping soundly does she let it close. They stand awkwardly together for a moment before Julie inclines her head and they begin to move through the maze of halls, rising back into the floors of Nightstyx.

“I wonder if I might ask you a question,” Julie murmurs, and Hecate know’s she’s eyeing her.

She sighs. “If it’s about my progress researching magic and energy - ”

“It’s about Mildred.”

Hecate stops, surprised. Begins to walk again and inclines her head, curious, if not apprehensive.

“First, I’d like to thank you for helping her catch up with the other girls. I’ve worried about how hard it might be to not come from the right sort of background -”

Hecate almost halts again, but forces herself to keep moving.

“Background can have little to do with talents,” she says carefully, stomach twisting as old wounds flare deep in her chest.

“Pedigree seems awfully important to you lot. I’ve had a run in to a girl by the name of - “

“Hallow?”

“How did you know?”

Hecate shakes her head. “Ethel Hallow is the middle child of a particularly powerful and ancient line of witches. Her mother is a keen supporter of The Great Wizard, his decree of neutrality, and his belief that Ordinaries should be left to fight themselves into extinction. The middle Miss Hallow, I’m afraid, finds her mother’s opinions to be above critique, as by parroting them, she hopes to receive the affection she so desperately craves. She could use more support. She could stand to understand that Ordinaries have their own unique culture and skills. Not second to those of witchery, simply different.”

Again she looks at Julie out of the corner of her eye, and Julie takes her meaning and grins. “Another project.”

“Indeed.”

“And Mildred - do you - do you think she is adjusting?”

They reach Hecate’s room and Julie crosses her arms, looking at her.

“Yes,” Hecate says after much consideration. “Though easily distractible, it’s often rather due to an excess of enthusiasm, rather than an absence of skill. She has much to learn. But she is holding her own amongst witches who have lived this life from birth.”

Julie’s face breaks into a grin. “Marvelous. I’m so glad to hear it.” She reaches out and squeezes Hecate’s arm and Hecate nearly jumps.

Eyes glittering with mirth, Julie bids her goodnight and departs, and Hecate slips into her chambers, her mind on Mildred’s progress since coming to school.

And so it goes.

Night after night.

Somehow Julie is the only one who can coax Pippa into eating a bit after an Event so Hecate can supply her dosage of Sleep Serum. Somehow she’s the only one to get Ethel to uncross her arms and sit with the rest of her form, rather than apart from them with a frown and a sulk.

And somehow Hecate finds herself chaperoned off to her own chambers each night by a Julie Hubble who doesn’t talk about bombs or about energy containers, but rather uses the opportunity to continue to talk to Hecate about her daughter.

Little stories here and there from Mildred’s childhood. Observations about her now that she’s a witch. A question from time to time about Mildred’s world - Hecate’s world - but nothing overly trying or difficult. It gives Hecate something to focus on, to clear her mind.

And now Julie follows her right into her chambers, immune to terse objections Hecate throws her way. Chatters at her while she un-pins her hair, as if impermeable to Hecate’s glare. Watches her with an eagle eye, arms crossed in absolute resistance to Hecate’s bids for peace and quiet. She refuses to leave until Hecate climbs into bed and then reminds her - in a voice that is stern and yet somehow comforting - that she doesn’t expect to see Hecate’s light on until morning and that she is not to read anything tonight.

And Hecate realizes she’s being _mothered_.

Realizes it when she hears Julie take the same tone with Mildred. As she makes Mildred eat her meals before dashing off from here to there. As she makes Mildred snuff out her light after a long day of revising.

Realizes it when they watch Mildred go off each morning to class. And she knows that she has the same watchful gaze on her own face, staring at Mildred’s retreating back, as Julie has for her. And for Mildred. And for Pippa.

It should mortify her. It should cause her to prickle and withdrawal. She’s not _used_ to having anyone in her space other than Pippa. Has never found it necessary.

But she also has never realized the extent to which she’s craved it. Someone fussing about to whether or not she’s slept, or eaten, or taken a walk to clear her mind. Someone besides Pippa who she trusts, though she cannot for the life of Merlin determine why.

Perhaps it’s come from watching her with Mildred. And how Mildred navigates the world as a result of Julie Hubble. So self-assured. So resilient.

She’s never seen such a relationship.

It makes her ache with loss, until Julie turns her gaze on Hecate and simply says “eat.” Or, “get some sleep,” and Hecate obeys with a huff, even as something inside of her turns funny and warm.

Pippa teases her. When they’re in private, when they’re alone.

“The mother hen now has a mother hen,” she quips one day when they’re sitting in the library. It’s Hecate’s break and they’re thumbing through periodicals on magical energy sources.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Pippa smiles over the soup Julie has just dropped by. “I mean,” she says, around a mouthful, “that they way you are with the girls - Enid, and Maud, and Mildred - they’re like your little flock. It’s adorable really.”

Hecate chokes a little. “I hardly would call myself the head of a brood - it’s you they flock to.”

Smiling, Pippa shakes her head. “You don’t see it, Hecate. _Adorable_.”

There’s an intense warmth in the tips of her ears and Hecate pretends to give the contents of her spoon a great deal of attention.

“I’m hardly a mother, and I haven’t a mother. Hen or otherwise.” She settles on, finally.

“No.” Pippa’s hand is cool against her own, and she looks up into sympathetic brown eyes. “Me neither. Which is why I’m so glad to see you’re getting on with Julie so well - letting her in. I’ve been so worried about you. Having to support me, carry this burden. Someone should be looking after _you_.”

“Pippa,” Hecate gasps, fingers suddenly weak around the spoon. “You’re not a burden. You could never -”

But Pippa’s shaking her head. “All I’m saying is that you deserve the support. And I’m glad you have it.” She squeezes Hecate’s hand and returns to her soup, smiling to herself in a rather pleased manner.

“And it’s adorable.”

Hecate’s ears burn ten degrees hotter, and Pippa laughs. Eyes bright, smile warm.  

______

Still, the cure to Pippa’s condition remains elusive. And Hecate spends all of her free time pouring over books from the Nightstyx library and from Pippa’s private library. But the pages hold no answers.

Pippa grows paler with each passing day, and sometimes Hecate fears she will simply disappear. Fade into nothing. Leave her forever.

It’s with these thoughts that Hecate comes to find herself standing outside Broomhead’s door. Palms sweating, an icy chill working down her spine.

The door is still sealed from Ada’s spell from their first night. Hecate has avoided the hallway ever since. But no longer.

Heart in her throat, she forces herself to push a hand forward, hovering in the air before the doorknob as her spell crackles and sizzles around the knob and then spreads around the doorframe. Ada’s spell breaks and the door clicks open, swinging slowly, and Hecate swallows around nausea that rises in her like a tide.

The room is dark and cold. Musty and damp in a way that only makes her skin crawl further and she steps slowly forward, footsteps muffled on the dusty floorboards.

Despite the dust, the office is still tidy in a way that brings Hecate no pleasure. It’s well ordered, books on the shelves, papers still stacked in perfect columns on the desk. Cobwebs fan out across many of the surfaces and she doesn’t bother with a cleaning charm. Doesn’t dare disturb what might be lurking in the darkness.

Light filters in from the hallway and she squints in the dark, cautiously moving across the room, heart in her throat, until she comes to the bookshelf. She can just make out the titles and scans through them, fingers moving to pluck books that might provide her with what she’s searching for.

Dust coats her fingertips as she drags them from the shelf, letting them fall through the air where her levitation charm keeps them hovering beside her in a pile.

_One Hundred Unauthorized Enchantments._

_Darkest Disorder: A Primer on Banned Spell Work._

_Magical Limits: Testing Boundaries and Breaking Convention._

_A Lexicon of Ancient Spells: Why Once Legal Magic is Now Illegal._

Working her way through the stacks she the circles to the desk, peering down at the curling papers that sit a top it. It looks to be a manuscript, and her fingers brush at the dusty page as she leans in to better read the title at the top.

_Power Extractions: How Siphoning Nubile Magic Can Lead to Immortality._

It’s in Broomhead’s hand and Hecate feels her knees go out. The books fall down around her in a crash, the pages of the manuscript scattering across the desk and floor as she goes down hard.

She can’t stop the darkness that rises up around her, the way her mind freezes and burns, the terror that claws at her lungs rendering them useless. She can’t stop the image of Broomhead rising above her in the dark. A looming, all powerful figure, and she thrusts out her hands in defense, magic-less, and terrified, as she coward on the filthy floor.

The figure above her draws nearer and she screams, voice hoarse and ragged for lack of breath, her magic rebooting to life and crackling in sparks across every surface.

Before her, the figure jumps.

“Dimity - ! Dimity - come quick!!!”

There’s a pounding of feet that Hecate can hardly hear over her own pounding heart. She shrinks down further into herself, cradling her head in her hands as she kneels, vulnerable and helpless as the figure above her moves in.

Suddenly there are two of them. And she shudders, and blinks, and weeps, flinching backwards as hands reach for her, even as the blurry faces of Dimity and Julie Hubble come into view.

“Don’t let the girls see me like this,” she chokes out, added terror of losing control clawing at her insides. “Please, please don’t let them see.”

Julie murmurs assurances, looking to Dimity and Dimity nods, waving a hand. “Corridor is blocked off. It’s all right HB, you’re going to be just fine.”

Hecate shakes her head, trembling. Another wave of terror surges through her and she brings her limbs closer to her center, rocking and shivering as terrible memories flash before her eyes.

“Hecate? Hecate -?” Julie is murmuring to her, holding her distance but fully focused, and Hecate tries to calm herself. It’s impossible. Impossible to breath, and the room spins and blurs before her.

“What can we do? What do you need?” Dimity’s eyes are kind. So much kinder than Hecate deserves, and Hecate chokes on her own breath, gasping around the nightmares in her mind enough to choke out _Pippa_.

Julie nods. “Of course. I’ll go. Dimity’s going to stay right here and make sure no students happen by. I’ll be back in a jiff.”

She disappears and Hecate is vaguely grateful that Julie is trying to pass off Dimity’s presence as precautionary for her dignity, rather than and a result of how unhinged and dangerous she’s suddenly become. She shudders again, forehead to her knees and Dimity moves from a crouch to sit beside her.

“You shouldn't be seeing me like this,” she manages when her breath allows, and Dimity shrugs.

“Remember that time at Yule several years ago? I had too much brew and you got me back to my rooms and left a Hangover Tonic on the nightstand? Slept upright in the hardest chair in my sitting room until morning just so you can verify that I was going to be okay? Just consider this a long overdue a repayment.”

Hecate gulps for air, shudders, shakes her head.

“You know,” Dimity murmurs, fingers tracing through dust on the floor. “You didn’t have to do that. To be so kind. I’d gotten myself into that mess, see. And what I know about what’s going on here, this isn’t something you got yourself into. From what I can put together, this mess was put upon you. And you’re the bravest witch I know. You and Pentangle both. It’s - erm -  it’s an honor to guard this hall. And I’ll stay as long as this hall needs guarding.”

She casts a significant look at Hecate, and Hecate feels something inside of her break, years of long held fear, and loneliness, and grief slicing through her until she’s weeping. Hands over her face, chin to her knees.

There’s a warm hand on her back. A familiar magic pressing against the cloth there.

 _Pippa_.

She tries to stop the tears but finds she can’t, and from her side Dimity shifts, as if to go, but Hecate shakes her head.

 _“Please_ ,” she whispers, and suddenly there’s a lighter touch. Dimity’s hand. Unfamiliar but familiar, joining up next to Pippa’s.

“I brought some water,” she hears Julie whisper, and a glass is set by her knee as Julie joins them on the floor.

“You got a right proper coven looking after you, Miss Hardbroom. Well, hardly proper, myself not being witchy and all. But point is, you’re not alone.”

“Broomhead’s not here, Hiccup,” Pippa whispers, breath close to Hecate’s ear and Hecate shudders at the name. “But we are. We’re all right here.”

Hecate looks up and finds Pippa’s eyes. Clouded with concern, bright with tears. She curls her fingers around the cover page that has fallen beside her, and holds it out. Pippa takes it and squints the half light at the title.

“ _Oh_.” Pippa's mouth goes thin. A look familiar to Hecate and somehow it brings her immense relief.

 _“Merlin_.” Dimity croaks, taking the page and examining it.

Julie frowns. “Like a vampire? Immortality?”

Dimity shakes her head. “She did die though. In prison. Heard they took extra precautions with the body. Never knew it was this bad - “

She breaks off, looking horrified, but Hecate shakes her head and doesn’t shift away.

“She didn’t succeed.” Pippa’s voice is strong and fierce. Full of the the fire that Hecate heard so often when they were young. Pippa’s fingers brush a tear from Hecate’s cheek and her eyes soften. “Hecate, she tried. But you are proof she didn’t succeed.”

“What about you?” Hecate croaks, voice rugged and raw.

Pippa shakes her head, eyes shining. “I’m not dead. And I hardly think I am immortal.”

“I don’t care for us to test the theory,” Julie mutters dryly and Dimity and Pippa both laugh softly, tension shifting.

“She didn’t win, Hecate.” Pippa’s fingers are back on her cheek, stroking.

“But, but -” Hecate gasps. “I don’t think I was wrong. About thinking you’d been taken by Hades. The mythical one. About Death stealing you. She was trying to master death. She was trying to command it. And she stole you. Took you to an underworld. Like Persephone, she took you and - and now -”

Hecate can’t go on and beside her Julie and Dimity shift quietly. “We’ll be in the hall,” Dimity whispers, fingers pressing lightly to Hecate’s back one last time before withdrawing. “We’ll be right outside if you need us.”

They depart and Hecate looks at Pippa helplessly. “This darkness, Pippa. It got inside everything. It took _everything_.”

Pippa takes her hand. “Not everything.”

“But I -” Hecate shifts, staring at Pippa and noting how suddenly strained she looks.

She blinks. Shakes her head.

“An Event? It’s happening, isn’t it? Now?”

Pippa’s hand tries to slip from hers but Hecate hangs on.

“Hecate -”

“ _No._ No, you’re not going through this alone. Take me with you. I need to go with you - I need to -”

She can feel a magic under Pippa’s skin. Shifting, and whirling, and strange. It’s foreign to her, and yet laced with traces of Pippa and she gasps, eyes coming up to hold Pippa’s own as Pippa’s mouth parts in surprise.

“Hecate?”

Hecate holds on tighter.

“I don’t understand,” Pippa whispers, staring at their joined hands. “I don’t understand what it means.”

The tension in Pippa’s face has faded and Hecate clings on more tightly.

“What what means?”

Pippa shakes her head.

“The Event. I don’t - it’s as if -” She shakes her head again. “It’s very quiet. Too far away. Like a radio that’s out of tune. And I don’t understand how you can touch me.”

Hecate strokes a finger over the back of Pippa’s hand. “It’s because you’re not in the basement.”

Pippa sighs. “I supposed. It’s another unmonitored Event tonight, at least. I’d rather be here than having to feel it all and do nothing. We should have thought of coming up here before.”

“We should have.”

They sit together in silence for a moment and Pippa frowns. “It’s strange. Before it was just as intense, no matter my location. It’s only the accuracy that improved with relocating to Nightstyx.”

Hecate shrugs. “I think perhaps you’re used to such intensity that it simply feels lesser now to be slightly out of range from the epicenter of whatever fuels this.”

Pippa sighs and reaches out and touches her cheek.

“Perhaps. How are you?”

Blinking, Hecate searches herself for an answer. “Better. I confess I am embarrassed to have caused such a scene.”

“No,” Pippa murmurs, and squeezes her hand. “Please don’t be. It was brave to come in here. To face such a dark and long held fear.” She tucks a wisp of hair behind Hecate’s ear. “I know you did it to help me -” her voice trembles. “And I want to say thank you. For everything.”

She starts to shift forward to reach for Hecate and freezes. “I still don’t understand how you can touch me.”

They look at each other and Hecate feels like there’s something she should say. Like she knows the answer but it’s just hidden under the surface of her mind. She shakes her head, trying to clear the cobwebs. Brushes an actual cobweb off of Pippa’s shoulder instead.

“Perhaps because I was there when it happened. We were touching then too, remember?”

Pippa nods, still frowning. “We were.” She glances at Hecate and laughs a little. “I dare say, I’m not used to you not knowing all the answers. It scarcely seems like there was a question in class you didn’t know growing up.”

Hecate blushes.

“That was only minor magic.”

“You’re still the smartest witch I know.”

It feels strange to smile after all the tears and terror, and Hecate shifts a bit, suddenly aware of how hard, and cold, and dirty the floor is.

“But Pippa - another unmonitored Event?”

Pippa nods.

“And you feel it less here?”

Again, a nod.

“Would you -” Hecate hesitates, “would you care to come to my chambers for some tea? Perhaps?”

Pippa nods a third time and rises, pulling Hecate up after her. Their hands part, but Pippa gasps, taking Hecate’s hand back immediately. At the look Hecate throws her, she merely shakes her head and starts towards the door, pulling Hecate through the room and out to the hall where Julie and Dimity wait.

“Alright?”

Hecate nods and Pippa clings to her.

“Good.”

“I’ll transfer you,” Dimity offers, and for once doesn’t tease. Hecate offers her a small smile, and suddenly she and Pippa are in her chambers, a steaming teapot on the table.

Pippa pulls her down onto the couch and stays close. Thigh against her own when she pulls her hand free to pour. Arm pressing against her shoulder as they sip their tea in tired silence.

That night they sleep curled together, Pippa’s arms tight around her, her breath warm and soft against her cheek.


	16. Chapter XVI: I Grieve By Dying Every Night, Baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Alright, Miss Hardbroom,” Mildred says in a sure, strong voice that reminds her ever so much of Pippa in her youth, “what do we need to do?”
> 
> The dying sun sparkles on the snow, casting shimmering light in all directions and painting everything a liquid amber. The girls squint up at her and she lets her free hand drop. Feels Enid take it as Maud closes the circle. 
> 
> They stand together in the light, shadows falling like strange, dark companions from beneath their feet. And under Hecate’s directive, the girls begin the chant and the stone begins to move. 
> 
> _What has been broken, make it whole.  
>  What has been broken, make it whole.  
> What has been broken, make it whole. _
> 
> Mildred squeezes her hand again. 
> 
> And Hecate closes her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well so this is my fav chapter. i wrote it back when i was writing chapter 2 or 3 so it's been in the works since the beginning, and i am so happy to finally share this part of the journey with you. i've had a really wild day (week, month, year) and comments have literally kept me on the sane(r) side, so if you feel inclined, i would love to hear from you! :))))
> 
> xo xo xo

**Nightstx Hall, 1941**

February brings heavy snow and the efforts of the Luftwaffe shift from cities to ports as the enemy fights to further cripple supply lines and bring England to its knees. Then Germany splits it’s resources, taking up an additional interest in the Soviet Front, and Hecate tries not to breath too easily as the Events become less frequent and less intense.

“Calm before the storm, I fear,” Julie mutters, sliding out from beneath her blinking and buzzing contraption. “Always worries me when things go this quiet.”

Privately Hecate agrees with her. But the reprieve gives her a chance to work on more projects than simply just research, and she relaxes as color returns to Pippa’s cheeks with every passing day of relative peace. One late afternoon she leaves Pippa and Julie in the laboratory, rolling her eyes at Pippa in a second pair of Julie’s coveralls as Julie teaches her to weld, and takes the girls out onto the grounds. They track through the snow, their shadows long and grey against the low-hanging sun.

“Where are we going Miss Hardbroom?” Enid leaps from snow drift to snow drift, kicking up powder with her tightly-laced boots. Mildred trapses along, stopping now and again to tug Maud upright as she slips along behind her, laughing brightly when they both nearly go down.

“We’re putting your skills at levitation to work,” Hecate informs them, stepping neatly around a patch of ice. “And a Reconfiguration Spell. New to you, but similar to levitation in that you must focus on where objects are in space, and where you would like them to be.”

She nods up at the crumbing north tower. “Now.”

The girls gather around her in a half circle.

“Oooh, it’s always looked so spooky,” Enid grins happily.

Maud claps her snow off her mittened hands. “I always thought it would have looked nice, back in it’s day.”

Taking a deep breath, Hecate tries not to remember.

“Yes. Well. We don’t know how long our tenure at Nightstyx will be. Best set things to right where we can.”

Mildred reaches out and takes her hand, mitten soft against her bare skin and Hecate tries not to startle. She can’t tell if the girl has caught the waver in her voice, or if she’s merely preparing for a joined up spell. She shakes her head but doesn’t pull away.

“Alright, Miss Hardbroom,” Mildred says in a sure, strong voice that reminds her ever so much of Pippa in her youth, “what do we need to do?”

The dying sun sparkles on the snow, casting shimmering light in all directions and painting everything a liquid amber. The girls squint up at her and she lets her free hand drop. Feels Enid take it as Maud closes the circle.

They stand together in the light, shadows falling like strange, dark companions from beneath their feet. And under Hecate’s directive, the girls begin the chant and the stone begins to move.

_What has been broken, make it whole._  
_What has been broken, make it whole.  
_ _What has been broken, make it whole._

Mildred squeezes her hand again.

And Hecate closes her eyes.

______

A week later, and Hecate’s fingers alight on the inside of Pippa’s wrist and she clicks open her watch with the other to measure her pulse. Pippa squirms a bit and Hecate grips a little more tightly.

“Sit still, please.”

Pippa makes a lily bloom in the center of her watch, it’s petals opening and closing in time with the ticks.

“Pippa.”

“Hmmm.”

“You know Mabcock insists on these medical checks. It will be over soon, I promise.”

“I’m just so ready for it to be spring.”

“Yes.” She doesn’t know what else to say, and touches the inside of Pippa’s wrist again, moving her fingers so they cover Pippa’s pulse more fully.

Pippa sighs and undoes her charm and Hecate’s eyes drop back down to the timepiece, watching the hands tick round the clock face as Pippa’s heartbeat flutters beneath her fingertips. It’s delicate, and intimate, and she swallows, losing herself for a moment in the tick-pulse-tick pulse, something tugging at the edges of her mind.

A memory.

A revelation.

“Pippa,” she breathes, slowly lowering the watch and gazing up into Pippa’s face.

“It’s not about death. We’ve been looking at this all wrong.”

Her hand closes fully, without thought, around Pippa’s wrist, thumb absently stroking over Pippa’s pulse point and Pippa gasps a little.

“What do you mean?”

“Pippa, my birthday is the 27th of April.”

“Yes, I know it is, darling. I picked the date, remember? And I have quite the day planned, so you ought to request a holiday - ”

“No, Pippa. My birthday _is_ the 27th of April. When I was in university I went to the archives and looked it up. Hecate Hardbroom, born 27th of April, 1890, to Evelina and Matthias Hardbroom. Six-forty two, ante meridian.”

Pippa stares at her. “Lucky guess on my part.”

But Hecate shakes her head and takes her hand. “No, Pippa. Not lucky.” She grasps her watch chain in her free hand and pulls it so the watch dangles between them.

“You fixed my watch.”

“I only vaguely remember doing that.”

“But you did it. And you knew to have back up the night we tried to run away.”

“It seemed like a prudent idea.”

“Yes, but Pippa, your _timing_.”

“I don’t understand. And what do you mean ‘this doesn’t have to do with death?’”

“ _Time_.” Hecate sighs. She’s smiling, bright, and relieved, and full of hope.

“Time.” Pippa repeats, her eyes glued to Hecate’s face, a furrow between her eyebrows.

“Yes. I don’t know why I didn’t see it before. You’ve always had a gift for it.”

“I have?”

“That day in the music room, how did you know Mabcock was coming?”

“I -” Pippa looks chagrined. “I don’t know.”

“Exactly. It’s so much a part of you. Of your magic. Always has been.”

“But death - I feel it coming - ”

Hecate’s shaking her head. “ _Yes_ . Time and location. _Time_ and location. Though you’re rather more rubbish with the location bit.”

Pippa pinches her lightly and Hecate shakes her head, hurrying on.

“You’ve always had a sense for these things. You have. Ever since you were only little.”

From where she sits on the table, Hecate’s hand still gripping her wrist, Pippa’s gazes at her, lips parted, cheeks pink, and Hecate swallows down on sharp emotion.

“But something happened that night. Down here with Broomhead. It’s like whatever that spell did opened up a piece of something in you that has always existed. It got down under you skin and now you feel things you shouldn’t. You feel a pain you shouldn’t. It’s only made worse by this sense you already have. It’s as if you never fully - ”

“ - healed.” Pippa whispers. She’s looking at her with wide, wet eyes and Hecate swallows. Tries to breath around the lump in her throat and the way her lungs tighten at just how beautiful Pippa is. And now truly, heart achingly, precious she is to her.

“But the doctor told your parents you’d make a full recovery,” she whispers. “I heard him.”

Pippa takes a breath and lets it out, slides her wrist in Hecate’s hand until their palms press together.

“And I did.”

“But - “

“Physically.”

Pippa pulls Hecate’s hand so it rests between the two of her own and squeezes.

“Oh.”

“My parents,” Pippa says, voice low with emotion, “failed to understand. My doctors. The public.” She raises her eyes and her thumbs stroke over the back Hecate’s hand causing her to shiver at the sensation. “But I don’t think I ever recovered. Not really.”

“Pippa,” Hecate breathes, and Pippa moves one hand to trace along her cheekbone, down one side of her face until her fingertips brush against Hecate’s lips.

“You know, I’ve only ever felt whole when I’m with you,” she whispers. “Hecate.”

And Hecate, trembling, moves her head slowly, so slowly, so that her lips graze the pads of Pippa’s fingers.

“Yes,” Pippa sighs, pushing up on the table so their faces are level. Her thumb shifts, pressing tenderly against Hecate’s bottom lip and Hecate releases a slow breath, heart hammering as Pippa’s other hand moves up from her hand to her wrist. It trails up her arm and smooths over her shoulder, her neck, up to wrap behind the base of her skull so that Hecate’s face is cradled gently between her warm palms.

“Pippa.”

It’s another revelation. Another exhalation of relief. Even as something begins to unwind low within her. Something wanting, and curious, and a little desperate, as she slides one hand up to Pippa’s own cheek. As she dares to slide the other against the curved plane of Pippa’s hip.

Their breath comes faster, tangling together as they inch closer. Pippa’s thumb is still stroking her bottom lip and Hecate presses another kiss against it, bolder this time.

Dark brown eyes regard her, full of something Hecate realizes is unmasked want. And she knows she must look the same, for Pippa slides closer still.

Her breath hitches as Pippa shifts, nearly kissing her, but not quite, as she slips off the table. A hand slides down to find Hecate’s own hip, the table’s edge pushing Pippa against her, and Hecate’s brain spins at the contact. She gasps again and Pippa presses closer still.

They stand, mirror images, Pippa’s hand mimicking Hecate’s as Hecate slides her own up Pippa’s side then trails it down again very slowly.

Pippa presses a little closer. “I’ve wanted this for a very long time,” she breathes, eyes never leaving Hecate’s.

“As have I.”

Their lips are nearly touching and Hecate doesn’t know which one of them closes the distance, only that she finds Pippa’s mouth to be pliant under her own, soft, and warm, and achingly sweet as it opens to her.

It’s a rush of pure magic, kissing Pippa. It’s all sparks, and spells, and sweet honey, and warm fire as Pippa makes a small noise of need into her mouth. As Pippa’s tongue brushes the place where moments before her thumb had been, as it slides against her own in gentle, spine-tingling patterns.

It’s pure want, and sharp longing, and coming home.

She makes a noise in the back of her throat as Pippa moves closer. She lets her own tongue grow bolder to taste Pippa, and Pippa moves up onto her toes so the length of their bodies are flush.

The resulting shock stuns her into drawing back, a desperate sort of noise snagging in her throat even as her hips press forward of their own accord. And Pippa presses back, eyes dark and lidded. Hecate brings both hands down to tighten on her hips, pulling her closer still.

“Is this -”

“ _Yes_.” Pippa gasps, fingers of one hand stroking the back of Hecate’s neck in a way that makes her breath catch. “And you  - ?”

“ _Yes_.” And Hecate kisses her again, more intently than before, as Pippa slides back onto the tabletop.

Her hands slide down far lower than Hecate’s back and she pulls her forward. Hecate makes a noise she’s never heard from herself before and breaks the kiss, body trembling as she tries to press back into Pippa’s hands at the same time she longs to arch forward into her. The result is a full body tremor and Pippa laughs softly, pushing off the desk so Hecate stumbles back a bit.

But Pippa steadies her, sliding her fingers up the insides of Hecate’s arms and guiding her backwards until she hits the wall by the door. Hecate’s eyebrows jump but Pippa kisses her again, more teeth and tongue now, traveling down her neck and Hecate squirms, panting and feeling more desperate by the minute.

“Pippa.”

“I want to take you to bed,” Pippa gasps, moving back up so they can hold each others eyes. “In a very grown up way, I mean.”

She blushes a fiery red, but then her mouth is back against Hecate’s neck and Hecate arches. Shivers. Stutters out nonsense that she hopes Pippa interprets as ‘ _yes’_ but finds she needn’t worry about translation. Not with Pippa. Not when Pippa’s taking her hand and sliding the door open, poking her head out to look up and down the hall.

“We could transfer,” she hisses as Pippa decides the coast is clear and tugs her out into the hall.

“Eager, are we?”

“ _Discreet_.”

They’ve just made it to the top of the main entry stairway and Pippa leads Hecate along a richly carpet hall before spinning around and pinning her to the wall.

“This is my house, it won’t let anyone bother us if I don’t want us to be bothered.” She presses herself closer, tongue following the shell of Hecate’s ear. “And I don’t want to be bothered.”

Hecate gasps and arches, hands insistent on Pippa’s hips again. “Eager then. I admit.”

Pippa’s nose presses to Hecate’s neck as she laughs. Then places a kiss just below the lace of Hecate’s collar, fingers slipping under the fabric to easy it away from skin.

“I always wanted to sneak about with you.”

“Like this?” Hecate breathes, hauling her up and kissing her.

“For starters.” Her eyes darken as she shifts her knee and Hecate tightens her grip on Pippa at the contact. “But then more like this.”

“Pippa. You really are the Queen of a particular sort of Hell.”

Pippa laughs, eyes bright and glinting as she slides a hand up and across the fabric of Hecate’s dress, palm finding Hecate’s breast as Hecate arches into her.

“You found me in this underworld,” she whispers, growing serious as she rests her forehead against Hecate’s. “You’re bringing me out of such darkness.”

“Pippa,” Hecate breathes, kissing her cheek, her palms, her lips.

Pippa cups her face and rests against her, their weight born by the wall, and kisses her with such gentle intensity that when she pulls back they’re both moved nearly to tears.

“My Springtime Queen,” Pippa sighs against her cheek.

Blushing, Hecate gathers Pippa close and transfers them, and Pippa raises her head once they land, eyes bright and gaze warm as she steps back and they regard each other in the clean, pale light of Pippa’s room.

“I’ve been fiddling with your spells,” Hecate says, fingers gentle as they brush Pippa’s hair from her eyes. “The girls and I rebuilt the North Tower and I repositioned your room. I put a Permanence Charm on too so the location would stick. It’s not healthy for you to have such little natural light.”

Pippa launches herself forward, wrapping her arms about Hecate’s neck and burying her face in her neck again. “I love it.”

“I love you.” It comes out half-choked, half-regretted in the moment, but Pippa pulls back to look into her face.

“You do?”

Hecate presses a kiss to Pippa’s forehead. “I do.” She kisses her cheek. “I love you.” Dragging her lips down she breathes in Pippa’s uneven breathes and whispers against her lips. “More than anything, I love you.”

The distance between them closes and Pippa’s trembling in her arms, moving against her with focused intensity as her fingers brush over Hecate’s face, down her arms, up her back, around and up to rest between their bodies above her heart.

“My love,” Hecate whispers, drawing away and bringing Pippa’s hand up further, cupping it within her own and pressing kisses to the knuckles.

“I’ve only ever loved you,” Pippa gasps, tears sparkling in her lashes. Her hand comes back to Hecate’s hips until they’re aligned again, foreheads touching. “Look at how we fit together.”

“We’ve always fit together,” Hecate breathes. She thinks back to two girls sitting on a bed. Of peeling shoes and how even then she’d only ever thought of them as better off as one.

“I want nothing left between us,” Pippa murmurs, fingers now stroking at the top of the buttons on the back of Hecate’s dress. “I want to know what it’s like to have nothing left between us.”

Desire thrumming hotly through her blood, Hecate nods. “Please,” she whispers before catching Pippa’s bottom lip between her own. “Please.”

And Pippa’s hands work their way down their back, slipping on the round buttons whenever Hecate moves her tongue in a precise way she’s come to realize drives Pippa closer to desperation. Until Pippa turns her around with a huff and tackles the problem without distraction, planting hot kisses along the back of Hecate’s neck instead and making her gasp as the long black fabric falls away.

“This is - ?” Pippa breathes, hands slipping round her to brush across the satin of Hecate’s slip.

“Yes,” Hecate agrees, arching when Pippa reaches her breasts, pressing back against her as Pippa cups them, thumbs teasing up taut nipples through the layers of Hecate’s underthings.

“Yes,” she sighs again, and her encouragement results in Pippa’s right hand sliding down the firm plane of her stomach to stroke the sensitive skin just above her hips and her skin ripples with goosebumps at her touch.

She lets Pippa hold her, lets herself rest back against Pippa’s own chest and gasps when suddenly Pippa’s skin is burning through the thin slip into hers, Pippa’s breasts pressing into her back in a way that makes her knees nearly buckle.

“Did you - ” she rasps, hand pulling Pippa’s up once again to her own chest and guiding it to move in a mirror to Pippa’s left as her hips jerk wantonly, “ - vanish your clothing?”

“I did.” Pippa’s voice is pitched low, her breath hot in Hecate’s ear and Hecate gasps, trying to turn in Pippa’s arms to see her. But Pippa holds her fast.

“Not yet.” And Hecate cries out as Pippa presses forward, moving with intention against her back until they’re both trembling.

Unable to hold off, Hecate spins in Pippa’s arms, and they move as one, stumbling backwards until Pippa falls back against the bed, air leaving her lungs in a surprised exhale as Hecate presses her down, hovering over her while Pippa’s hips roll helplessly.

Golden hair fans out around her face, falling down in loose curls against Pippa’s pale skin and Hecate looks down at her in reverent awe.

“I know you so well,” Hecate’s voice catches, uncertain. “But not like this.”

Pippa touches her cheek. “I want you to know me like this.” Her fingers splay across Hecate’s cheek before trailing down to rest above her heart. “It’s always been just you and me.”

Hecate feels her eyes prick. “Pippa -”

“I feel,” Pippa breathes, and pushes herself up on an elbow until her lips are centimeters from Hecate's, “like my whole life has lead to this moment. To finally have this with you.” She swallows, eyes bright. “I want to be yours. And no one else's.”

Bending down Hecate kisses her, once, twice, three times. Gasps Pippa’s name as Pippa kisses her back and Hecate lowers her down to the bed, ducking her head further and to tug a rosy nipple into her mouth.

Below her, Pippa shudders, hands scrabbling at the sheets, and then at Hecate’s back. She slowly works Pippa into wildness before trailing hot kisses down the sloping valley of one breast to kiss along her sternum, and then up the other side, until she can swirl her tongue around a second nipple. It peaks beneath her tongue and she inhales sharply at the wetness that accompanies the tightening sensation between her legs as she feels Pippa arch against her mouth.

Pippa’s head rolls from one side to the other, hair tangling as she pushes and pulls on Hecate’s shoulders as if unsure where she wants to guide her next. Placing one last kiss, Hecate looks up and takes in Pippa’s flushed cheeks and the desperation in her eyes.

“Now who is eager?”

Pippa laughs, then gasps, as Hecate scrapes her teeth along the side of one breast.

“Darling. Let’s both stop pretending we’re not absolutely wild. I can feel you, you know.” And she presses a knee upwards until Hecate’s jerking against her, flushing at being caught out, but not minding in the least so long as Pippa doesn’t stop that particular motion.

“You’re wearing far too many clothes,” Pippa murmurs, fingers sliding under the straps of Hecate’s slip as she keeps rhythm. The straps slip down Hecate’s arm, the skirt riding up over her thighs as she straddles Pippa, and Pippa impatiently vanishes the garment, urging Hecate to fall forward so she can capture a dusky nipple between her lips.

The sensation, Pippa’s mouth at her breast, the friction that only fuels the insistant ache between her legs, is nearly enough to drive her senseless, and she surged forward, fists curling into the bedding above Pippa’s head.  

All that’s left between them is her silk underwear and Pippa gently tips her onto her side, knee unrelenting in its motions, as her fingers hook around the garment. “Nothing left between us,” she murmurs, capturing Hecate’s mouth as she tugs them down. They tangle where their bodies meet and Hecate cries out as they vanish as well and Pippa’s warm skin slides unhindered against where she needs her most.

“Hecate,” Pippa breathes, eyes wide as Hecate buries her face in Pippa’s neck. “My, Hecate. My, darling.”

Hips moving rapidly now, arms around Pippa, she draws her closer as they move together.

“I don’t know what’s come over me,” she tries, fighting a flush of embarrassment at the way her body moves without her ability to govern it’s desire.

“I do hope it’s me.” Pippa smiles, pressing her back against the mattress to moves above her, her fingers replacing her knee and Hecate spasms at the more direct pressure. “And I do hope you won’t hold back. I want all of this, I want all of you.”

Whimpering, Hecate nods, arcing up against Pippa’s fingers as they slide against her and she nods again when Pippa presses against the particularly sensitive skin just beyond where Hecate desires her.

“Please,” she whispers, and blushes, and Pippa settles along her side and kisses her as she slides inside her. They both gasp at how Hecate’s muscles draw her in, and Pippa kisses her again, eyes shining as she curls her fingers.

“Is this alright?”

“Yes,” Hecate tilts her chin and Pippa comes back for another kiss, fingers gentle as Hecate adjusts, eyes bright as they lay together savoring the nearness of the other. “Yes, more than.”

“You’re so warm,” Pippa smiles, “I feel as though we were made to fit like this.”

Hecate shivers and feels where Pippa’s fingers are starting to move slowly within her. She gasps, meeting Pippa’s gaze even as her hips roll against Pippa’s hand.

“I never thought -”

“Shhhh,” Pippa soothes. “We’re here now. After everything. And I’m going to care for you now, Hecate Hardbroom. In all the ways I couldn’t before.”

Her fingers shift and Hecate sighs at the way pleasure is beginning to spin up in every nerve throughout her body, all emanating from where Pippa moves more deeply inside her.

“I’m going to keep you safe,” Pippa breathes, kissing her forehead. “And I’m going to keep you warm.” Hecate arches and Pippa moves with her. “I’m not going to let anyone take me away from you, not ever, ever again.”

They’re panting together now and Pippa wraps herself above Hecate, curling over her with each thrust as Hecate clutches at her back. “I’m going to give you my entire library, darling.”

And Hecate comes on a huff of laughter, body shattering into a million shards of pleasure, even as she feels hot tears wash down her face as sweet relief, and joy, and love, mingle with her release.

Her body trembles through a series of aftershocks and Pippa kisses her face all over, wiping at her tears.

“You are, after all, my favorite magic,” Pippa says, once Hecate’s calm again, and kisses her nose.

 _Pippa_. She wants to say.  Wants to say it like a spell, like a prayer. But her voice as quite left her and she can only shake her head.

Pippa smiles down at her, body a warm and reassuring weight against hers and Hecate kisses her a little desperately as Pippa slips her fingers gently free.

She misses her immediately, and entirely too much, and makes up for it by sliding Pippa off her and rolling so they’re nestled the other way round. She catches up Pippa’s hand and tangles their fingers together, kissing her fingertips.

They look at each other, and Pippa’s breathing slowly changes as Hecate inches closer. When they kiss, Pippa shivers and Hecate eases more fully above her as she drags an open mouth down her neck.

“Pippa,” she intones finally, finding her voice again, and Pippa’s hands come to tangle in her hair where it’s come free to spill down all around them in a dark wave.

She teases Pippa’s nipple again and Pippa makes a sound in the back of her throat that makes Hecate bold. Sliding back up she hovers over her, one hand tracing the delicate curve of Pippa’s cheek.

“Tell me,” she breathes, feeling very daring, “tell me what you have thought about the most. All these years.”

And Pippa gasps, hands clenching around Hecate’s arms as her eyes darken. “Hecate - ”

Leaning down Hecate nuzzles her cheek, “I want to do what you’ve wished for most. I want to make it real.”

Pippa shudders beneath her and kisses her in such a way that they’re both trembling from want when they break apart for breath.

They look at each other with open desire for a moment, and Pippa arches up and captures her mouth again, tongue moving in such a deliberately arousing manner that Hecate keens a little at the sensation.

“That,” Pippa blushes, fingertips digging into her shoulders. “More of that - just - ”

And Hecate can’t help the pleased bloom of anticipation as Pippa struggles to go on. Instead she cuts her off, pressing her back to the bed, tongue darting out to slide against Pippa’s like a promise, until Pippa turns her head to one side to gasp for air and Hecate once again moves lower.

She kisses her way down, hands charting the path, her lips and tongue fueling Pippa’s labored breathing as she slides lower still.

Tiny kisses dot against Pippa’s ribs, hot open mouthed adorations brush down her abdomen. She nips at Pippa’s hip before soothing it with the flat of her tongue. Pippa is more gorgeous than her most private imaginings and she lingers over a sensitive bit of skin just inward from her left hip until Pippa’s writhing beneath her.

“I like this,” Hecate breathes, settling between Pippa’s legs and kissing the soft skin inside her right thigh. The muscle there jumps and Hecate looks up and takes in how Pippa’s clutching desperately at the pillow above her head, cheeks pink and eyes bright as wisps of golden hair curl against the flushed skin of her neck. “I like you like this. I like being with you while you’re like this.”

Pippa reaches down and touches her cheek and Hecate turns her head and kisses her palm.

“I love you,” Pippa whispers and Hecate whispers it back against warm skin before ducking to kiss Pippa in far more intimate a location. Pippa’s head drops back and her knees contract, and Hecate slides her arms under one of them to hold Pippa in place, tongue slowly edging nearer, moving with careful attention to how Pippa’s breath changes, how she buckles, how she begs.

And Hecate smiles against her, profoundly happy and profoundly surprised at how this act of intimacy feels so right. How drawing Pippa closer and closer to the height of pleasure feels like like a cherished and holy responsibility.

Pippa’s hand is back in her hair, her consonants clashing against long vowels as Hecate’s fingers move down under her chin. Pippa begs again and Hecate slides them upwards, eyes pricking with emotion as Pippa pushes down against her and cries out, her delicate muscles fluttering against Hecate’s fingertips as Hecate fills her.

“Love you,” Pippa chokes out and Hecate moves her mouth back, intent on showing Pippa what this is. What this magic between them can do. They move together faster and Pippa goes all but quiet; sharp, frantic utterances breaking the air as Hecate move her tongue more directly against her.

Her heart, already expanded to brink of its capacity, splits nearly open with the enormity of how it feels to have Pippa come apart beneath her. Pippa spasms and calls out for her, body bridging off the bed as Hecate pulls her closer, urges her to ride out the waves against her tongue until Pippa’s shuddering anew, and calling out anew, and breaks for a second time, after which Hecate eases her down with soft kisses and murmured reassurances until she’s still.

Pippa’s hand finds her own and holds it tightly and Hecate readjusts, resting her cheek on the soft skin of the cradle of Pippa’s hips as they both attempt to catch their breath.

“You’ve imagined that for years?” She murmurs once she’s regained her senses a bit and Pippa’s hand stills in her hair.

“You’re so smug.”

Hecate raises her head and can’t help the smile that cuts across her face. Can’t help this open, self-satisfied feeling that blooms within her.

“Have I a right to be?”

Pippa tugs at her and she moves up the bed to settle next to her.

“Yes, darling. Imagination - even my imagination - has been a pale and sorry companion. That was spectacular.”

Blushing and suddenly shy, Hecate drops her chin down but Pippa catches it and pulls her in for a kiss, gasping a little. And Hecate finds herself emboldened once more, smiling into the kiss as she lets Pippa taste herself on her tongue.

“You’ve ruined me for all other activity.”

“Is that so?” Hecate’s fingers trail up the inside of Pippa’s thigh and Pippa jolts at the sensation.

“A thousand times a day and I would never be satisfied.”

Hecate kisses her, pulling back so Pippa can read her loftily arched eyebrow.

“A thousand and one, perhaps?”

Pippa laughs then gasps as Hecate fingers return to still sensitive skin.

“Naughty.”

“No,” Hecate sighs, head dropping so that her forehead touches Pippa’s. “Just very thoroughly yours.”

Pippa, her eyes suddenly quite wet, beams up at her.

“Well then,” she says, and flips their positions.

And proceeds to return the sentiment wholeheartedly.

______

Late afternoon sun streams through the window and the castle is unusually quiet. Hecate shifts her hand on Pippa’s back and turns her head, taking in the sight of Pippa beside her. She looks to be asleep, but at Hecate’s movement her eyes blink slowly open and she smiles, sunlight catching on her lashes, spilling across her swollen, well kissed lips, and Hecate finds herself smiling back.

Her hand moved again, palm soothing across the skin of Pippa’s lower back and Pippa sighs, eyes fluttering shut and then back open.

“I’ve heard of Time Witches and Weather Witches, but only in folk tales.” Hecate murmurs and Pippa shifts a little on her stomach. The sheets are tangled around her waist and Hecate’s fingers dip below before smoothing back up, delighting in the sensation of Pippa’s warm soft skin below her fingers. “Perhaps there’s a bit of truth that some witches have specializes powers.”

She brings her hand up and brushes Pippa’s hair back. “And we don’t know where you came from.”

“No way of knowing.”

Hecate trails her fingers across Pippa’s features, filled with wonder. “No, no way of knowing.”

Pippa sighs and rolls onto her back, eyes on the ceiling. “I wish I knew what she was like.”

“I know.”

Pippa’s hand finds her own and she twines their fingers together as they come to rest atop her stomach. Hecate can feel her breathing.

“I’ve tried to imagine her for as long as I can remember.”

“Pippa - “

Pippa shakes her head. “I suppose I’ll have to make peace with not knowing who I am, where I came from. Someday.”

Hecate squeezes her fingers and rolls on her her side, pulling her hand free to brush against Pippa’s cheek.

“I know who you are, Pippa.” she whispers and kisses her.

“You do?”

Hecate smiles. “You’re mine. My little Time Witch.”

Their lips are centimeters apart and Pippa sighs against her.

“For as long as I can remember,” Hecate murmurs, voice rough, “we’ve been each other’s. We’ve belonged -“

“To each other,” Pippa finishes and she’s smiling. Her hand finds Hecate’s hip and she guides her until they’re laying on their sides, nose to nose.

“Yes,” Hecate says, and knows her eyes must look very bright.

Pippa’s fingers track up and down her side and she shivers. “When do you think you knew…”

She trails off and Hecate stills her hand, bringing it to her lips for a kiss.

“I’ve always loved you. For as long as I can remember. But I started to feel things things I couldn’t explain while we were in school. It felt like magic, only better. Every time you touched me. Every time Broomhead’s Magic got inside me, tried to drain me, was pulling me apart. You were there, and you’d hold me and I - ”

Pippa’s smiling, eyelashes suddenly wet. “Oh, you’re a romantic.”

“I most certainly am not.”

Pippa moves in and punctuates each word with a kiss. “You. Most. Certainly. Are.”

She pulls back and Hecate feels herself blushing.

“I don’t know when I knew,” Pippa’s says simply. “All I remember is that I always had this desire to be protected by you. To protect you, too. And it grew into something - something where I could hardly look at you without wanting to touch you, to hold you. The I realized how much I wanted to kiss you.” Her fingers trace Hecate’s cheekbone. “I very nearly did. That night.”

It’s a confirmation a long time coming and Hecate swallows down grief.

“As did I. But not there. Not I that room. I wanted to start a life with you. To start that chapter not in the darkness of that basement but on our own terms. I wanted to kiss you in the light.”

“The light,” Pippa whispers, sun catching on her tears and Hecate nods, words lost as she fights emotion, as Pippa’s lips press against her own, as golden strands of warmth fall down upon the bed around them.

They part and Hecate sighs, hands splayed across Pippa’s naked back, revealing in the intimacy.

“You don’t really think I’m a Time Witch, do you?”

Hecate shrugs. “You know I am not one to believe in tales. But you have an innate gift. I should have seen it sooner.” She frowns. “It’s funny that I didn’t. I just -”

“What?”

Shaking her head, she sighs. “I don’t know. You were so familiar to me. Too familiar.”

“Too familiar?” Pippa’s voice has gone deep and liquid and Hecate feels heat rise low within her.

“Well,” she tries, aiming for delicacy, “you know what I mean.”

Pippa rolls until she’s atop her, body flush from hip to breast. “Oh, I know what you mean.” She dips her head and her tongue brushes Hecate’s bottom lip before she kisses her.

Hecate loses herself in Pippa’s warm body, arches, gasps, falls to pieces. Moves against her in the golden light and pulls her with her over the edge.

“I wish,” Pippa whispers, once they catch their breath, “that I were a Time Witch. Then we could make this last forever.”

Hecate catches her hand and holds it to her heart. Tugs Pippa in to curl against her, and smiles.

Pippa looks at her. “What?”

Hecate feels the corners of her mouth lift higher still and she ghosts them across Pippa’s cheek. “I think,” she murmurs, hand once again finding the pulse point of Pippa’s wrist, “that it’s time we finally can.”

She kisses Pippa then.

And when they break apart Pippa is smiling too.


	17. Chapter XVII: Rebirth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Oh-ho. Late are we?” Dimity taps a pencil contemplatively against the edge of the desk, still looking between them.
> 
> “Hardbroom, you’re glowing.”
> 
> Despite her most desperate of efforts, Hecate flushes deeply, hands clasping behind her in regimented denial. “I hardly think I am.”
> 
> “Pentangle’s glowing too. And her dress isn’t buttoned properly.”
> 
> Hecate’s mouth drops open and she imagines her face must be a shade of puce that is most unbecoming in a witch. Pippa breaks, a bubbling, gasping laugh escaping her. It spills out from her in happy tones, and Hecate glances at her to see her biting her lip, a little pink herself.
> 
> “Really, Pippa,” Hecate murmurs, striving for dignity.
> 
> Though she knows dignity is lost and she will never live this down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> remember when i thought this story would be done by dec 31st. i am a living joke. 
> 
> but i actually just live for comments :) and i will get around to responding to them all - they really do give my zombie heart life!!! 
> 
> <3

**Nightstx Hall, 1941**

Pippa lays sprawled across the bed, clad in little more than an awfully revealing dressing gown. The garment is hardly tied, exposing Pippa wherever the cloth gapes. Hecate swallows, unable to keep her eyes off each expanse of smooth skin. Pippa’s got her fingers tangled in the chain of Hecate’s watch, watching it with a great deal of consideration as it spins above her, twisting first one way and then the other.

Hecate, fingers tremble as she works to do up the back of her own dress, huffs, and finally settles on using magic. Her hands move instead to work through the tangles in her hair as her eyes stay on Pippa’s slim fingers. Her toned thighs. The way her body curves in a way that makes Hecate ache.

“It’s almost time.”

“Mmm.” Pippa keeps the watch dangling above her and doesn’t move.

“Pipsqueak.”

Breaking her eyes away, Pippa pushes herself up on an elbow and looks over. “I know. I just wish we didn’t have to.”

“I know.” Hecate echoes and moves to sit beside her on the bed. Pippa scoots over to make space and Hecate tucks a lock of golden hair behind Pippa's ear, cupping her face. She kisses Pippa on the forehead and Pippa sighs.

“I confess I wish we didn’t have to either. That you didn’t have to.”

Pippa moves to hold the watch between her hands and Hecate watches as her thumbs stroke over the intricate pattern on the casing.

“When will the war be over?”

Hecate reaches over and covers her fingers. “You’re not fighting alone. Not anymore.”

Pippa’s eyes are bright and she leans in, lips finding Hecate’s own, arms wrapping around Hecate’s neck. Hecate can feel the watch, cool against her dress and against her back as it moves with Pippa’s hand. The kiss, gentle at first, shifts, and Hecate feels the spark of something more. She pulls back before she can succumb to the sensation.

“We should get you dressed. Mabcock told us to be in the lab by half past ten tonight.”

“Mmmm,” Pippa hums again and eyes her. “We should?”

Hecate realizes she’s gripping the fabric of Pippa’s dressing gown very tightly and uncurls her fingers. “We should.”

“And you always do everything your told?” Pippa murmurs, a glint in her eye. Neither of them expect Hecate to blush as deeply as she does, and Pippa’s eyes fly up to her hairline in surprised but pleased interest.

“Another time,” Hecate says with a look, and rises. Pippa bites her lip and Hecate can tell she's filing the information away for later. Her stomach dips, not unpleasantly. 

“Hecate Hardbroom.”

“Yes?”

Rising as well, Pippa slinks towards her, hands sliding back around her and then up into Hecate’s still unbound hair.

The kiss is electric, full of promise, and Pippa presses her body against Hecate’s in a way that would be indecent if they hadn’t just spent an entire afternoon in the manner in which they have. Hecate’s hands grip Pippa’s hips but Pippa pulls back all too soon.

“I love you,” Pippa whispers, eyes gentle, and she guides the watch chain back down around Hecate’s neck, pulling her hair free and adjusting the heavy timepiece so that it lies at the center of Hecate’s chest, between her breasts. “I love you.”

Happiness, true, utter happiness, washes through her and Hecate lets her forehead drop to Pippa’s. “And I you.”

They stand together for a moment until Hecate steps back and pulls Pippa to the wardrobe. “Clothes.”

“Fine.” Pippa shivers as Hecate’s fingers slip beneath the edge of her robe, easing it away from skin until it drops to the floor. “See something you like?” Pippa's not looking at the wardrobe but rather down at herself. 

Hecate tries to ignore her, but fails, eyes flitting back to Pippa even as she turns and purses through Pippa’s outfits.

She selects a dress and holds it out to Pippa who doesn’t take it.

“Pippa.”

“I don’t want to go down there.”

Suddenly tearful, Pippa crosses her arms, goosebumps rising on her skin as her shoulders sag. “I know it's helping the war effort. I know it’s my duty, but -” she glance up, eyes lashes wet,  “but after the afternoon we’ve had - after feeling such joy, such peace, _finally_ \- after all these years - I’m not sure I can face -”

She breaks off, shaking her head as she studies her bare toes.

Hecate steps forward and takes her hand. “I know. Pipsqueak, I know.”

“But I have to. And,” hesitating, Pippa looks up, “I know you’ll be there -”

Hecate nods resolutely and Pippa draws in a shaking inhale.

“Alright,” Pippa says and closes her eyes. “Alright, I can do this. I can do this. If you're with me.”

Hecate guides her in until Pippa’s head rests against her shoulder and holds her for a long moment. Pippa’s skin is chilly beneath her fingertips and she presses her palms down, trying to warm her.

“You’ll catch a chill.”

She lets Pippa wipe at her eyes and then guides her back to sit on the back of the bed.

“I just feel - so - so _tired_ ,” Pippa whispers, and Hecate’s fingers find her cheek.

“It’s alright,” Hecate whispers back, voice tight with emotion. “Because I am here. To care for you.” She catches one of Pippa's tears and brushes it away. “Because I do. Care for you.”

Pippa watches her in wonder as Hecate returns to the wardrobe and collects Pippa’s underthings. Back at Pippa’s side, Hecate kisses her on the shoulder before sliding Pippa’s brazier around her, fingers gentle as she does up the back.

“You could use magic, you know?”

“I know,” Hecate breathes, content to slide Pippa’s slip over her head by hand, followed by her dress. Pulling it down she kisses Pippa desperately as her face pops free above the collar. “I know.”

Her fingers make quick work of the buttons down the front and she pulls Pippa up, holding her against her for a moment. “I like caring for you like this. I like getting to be the one to care for you.”

Pippa touches her cheek. “Hecate.”

Hecate spins her, breath hot against Pippa’s neck and Pippa shivers. “Now. Your lines.”

And Pippa laughs.

Bright and loud, and Hecate delights in how Pippa’s ribs move under her hands.

“I didn’t think you’d ever be so fashion conscious, Hiccup.”

“I’d prefer stockings,” Hecate confesses, conjuring an eyebrow pencil and sinking to her knees behind Pippa. She makes quick work of dragging the pencil down the back of each leg, though Pippa shivers with each stroke, resulting in less than a tidy result.

She reaches up and turns Pippa, hands on her hips, until Pippa falls back against the bed. “I’d prefer stockings,” she breathes again, hands trailing Pippa’s calves. “I would roll them up each leg,” she murmurs, fingers living out her fantasy instead. “I’d clip them to your garter here.” Her hand stops at the inside of Pippa’s thigh to demonstrate and Pippa falls back onto her elbows, breathing heavily.

“Though,” Hecate sighs, leaning in until her breath can gust against Pippa as she pushes her dress up higher, “I’d rather unroll them, I think.”

Pippa’s hand finds its way into her hair and Hecate leans in, mouth finding Pippa, tasting her, as Pippa’s hips arch up against her, as Pippa makes a sharp sound into the quiet of the room. And Hecate eases Pippa’s legs over her shoulders, lays her back and works her higher and higher as she kneels before her. It doesn’t take long for Pippa to come, body shuddering, thrashing, shivering, and Hecate eases her back down with soft assurances and small kisses against trembling thighs.

Hecate smiles into the curve of her hip.

“Oh.”

Shuddering again, Pippa’s fingers twitch in her hair.

_“Oh.”_

She stiffens as another wave chases through her. Hecate watches in amazement.

Shifting so she’s sitting back on her knees more comfortably on the floor, Hecate smooths her palms against the tops of Pippa’s thighs, grounding her.

She lets time pass for a moment, savoring the sound of Pippa’s breathing gradually calming.

Finally Pippa rolls her torso sideways a little so she can look down at Hecate. “Can we do this again sometime? That was - ” She breaks off, at a loss, eyes fluttering shut.

At Hecate’s nod, Pippa smiles hazily and then moans a little, hips still restless, and Hecate leans and kisses her at the apex of her thighs before reaching behind her to collect Pippa’s undergarments. She guides them up her legs with careful hands, rising up and pulling Pippa up as well to ease them over her waist. Pippa clutches at her elbows and shivers violently before laughing, arms wrapping around Hecate’s neck. The sound Pippa makes at the taste of herself on Hecate as they kiss has Hecate’s mind spinning dizzily, and she has to force herself to pull away, filled with regret.

“We’re already five minutes late.”

“Rats,” Pippa laughs and her thumb swipes at Hecate’s smudged lipstick. “And we’re never late.”

Hecate rolls her eyes. “I’m sure it won’t even be noticed. But we best hurry.” With a twitch of her fingers her hair is in place and Pippa takes her hand.

“Let’s go.”

______

They are, in fact, ten minutes late due to Pippa kissing her on every other step of the stairs.

Hecate hadn’t even protested, and scolds herself as the arrive at the lap, though a smile tugs up, unbidden, around the corners of her mouth.

They're both a little out of breath as Pippa pushes the door open.

And Dimity spins around in the chair by the map to face them, staring.

“Oh-ho,” she says.

And looks between the two of them.

Wicked delight makes her eyes all too bright and she grins as Hecate stiffens her spine, hoping to look at unaffected as possible, even as Pippa’s shoulders shake beside her in mirth.

“Oh-ho. Late are we?” Dimity taps a pencil contemplatively against the edge of the desk, still looking between them.

“Hardbroom, you’re glowing.”

Despite her most desperate of efforts, Hecate flushes deeply, hands clasping behind her in regimented denial. “I hardly think I am.”

“Pentangle’s glowing too. And her dress isn’t buttoned properly.”

Hecate’s mouth drops open and she imagines her face must be a shade of puce that is most unbecoming in a witch. Pippa breaks, a bubbling, gasping laugh escaping her. It spills out from her in happy tones, and Hecate glances at her to see her biting her lip, a little pink herself.

“Really, Pippa,” Hecate murmurs, striving for dignity.

Though she knows dignity is lost and she will never live this down.

“Mabcock said half past ten,” she pointedly checks her watch, striving to change the subject.

“That she did,” Dimity nods, frowning a bit even as her eye sparkle. “Also unlike her to be late -”

The door swings open and Mabcock appears, Ada on her tail.

And Mabcock's collar is askew. And her lipstick smudged.

And Hecate feels her eyebrows fly up her forehead as Ada gasps, “Sorry we’re late - business came up -”

“Business.” Dimity says, making the word stretch out slowly. “Right.”

Pippa laughs again.

“Hecate and Pippa also were caught up. With business.”

Pippa stops laughing and Hecate sighs.

“Er, right,” Mabcock, distractedly pats at her hair, and Hecate valiantly attempts to avoid Ada’s gaze. “Best get to work then.”

“Not me,” Dimity smirks, rising. “My shift is just ending. I’m going to go brief Julie. Lots of _business_ to discuss these days, it seems.”

She skirts around them and Hecate looks at her aghast.

“Later, Hardbroom. Pentangle. Mrs. Cackle. Major-General.”

With one last wink, she disappears.

The four of them stand in an award cluster, and no one seems to want to meet anyone else’s eye.

“Well,” Pippa says eventually, and Hecate can hear her trying not to laugh again. “Shall we?”

“To business,” Ada nods, clapping her hands.

It’s the wrong choice of words and they all blush.

______

“It’s not your fault,” Hecate pleads.

It's near dawn and Pippa is pacing circles around her room as Hecate stands by helplessly, fists curled in concern, heart aching.

“It’s not something you could have anticipate and if you had - if you had - would you have not -”

She can't say it and breaks off, heart trembling, and only breathes again when Pippa stops abruptly and spins to face her.

“Of course I would have,” Pippa chokes out, rushing forward so that Hecate’s face is cradled between her hands. “Of course I - _Hecate_ \- “ she kisses her desperately, off center, and messily, and Hecate whimpers into her mouth as Pippa pulls back and backs away. “It’s just - it’s just - “

“Gone.” Hecate whispers.

And Pippa stills, eyes wide as they stare at each other.

“Hecate, I didn’t feel a _thing_.”

Her voice is so quiet that Hecate hardly breathes least she miss a word.

“A hundred dead in Bristol and I felt _nothing_.”

Pippa’s crying, torrential tears down her cheeks and Hecate moves forward slowly and gathers Pippa's hands between her own.

“Pipsqueak,” she urges, voice matching Pippa’s in softness. “Pipsqueak. What if it’s over. What if you’re _free?_ ”

And Pippa breaks, legs giving out as Hecate catches her. She brings her to the floor where she holds her close, hushes her and clutches her to her chest. “Pippa, Pipsqueak, I think it’s over. It’s all over.”

Pippa cries harder.

“But people will die not. More people will die than before and it will be my f-fault -”

“No,” Hecate soothes, brushing Pippa’s hair away from her face. “No. That first night, Mabcock said you’d do more than enough. Tonight she said that you’ve done more than enough.”

“I wanted it gone,” Pippa gasps, “so many times, I wanted it gone. But it’s saved so many -”

“You’ve saved so many,” Hecate quietly corrects. “And it should never have been a burden for you to bear. Pipsqueak.”

Pippa tucks herself against Hecate and continues to cry. “It’s just that I finally got the thing I’ve always wanted - what I’ve always _needed_ more than anything. And it comes at the expense of people’s _lives_.”

Hecate sighs and brings Pippa more securely against her. “I do believe that it's for that very reason that the curse - if that’s what it was - the corrupted spell - has lifted. That piece of you it worked its way under, the part of you that was so hurt, that felt such pain - the part that -”

“Ached for you,” Pippa supplies through her tears.

Hecate hesitates. “Yes. I think it fed on that. Relied on that.” She pulls Pippa’s face up until they’re nose to nose. “Pipsqueak. Your life has value, too.”

Pippa’s tears are slowing, her breath coming in gasps, and she gazes up at Hecate. There’s so much trust in her eyes that Hecate’s heart stutters at Pippa’s expression.

“It’s over?” Pippa whispers, as if only, finally daring to hope.

“I think so.”

“Hecate?” Pippa’s fingertips are against her jaw, her eyes full of wonder. “Just like that?”

Hecate leans down and kisses her, very, very, very gently.

“Just like that.”

______

Morning sun filters across the bed and Hecate shifts her head on the pillow to look over at where Pippa is still sleeping. She doesn’t know how long she watches her, hardly daring to imagine that this is all real. It’s been a difficult night, coaxing Pippa through joy and devastation in turn, and the bright light of dawn fills her with a delicate, blossoming feeling of hope.

Eventually Pippa shifts, her eyes fluttering sleepily open. She blinks at Hecate, and Hecate holds her breath as Pippa’s eyes rove over her, move around the room, remembering.

“I’m dreaming,” Pippa whispers, voice hoarse, and Hecate shakes her head. “But you’re still here. And it’s morning. And there’s sun. And last night - and we - “

She breaks off and Hecate slides her hand across the sheets to collect Pippa’s.

“Yes.”

Pippa gazes at her with wide eyes. “But you’re still here.”

Hecate smiles. “I used your maglet to contact Ada. Dimity will cover my classes. I didn’t want to leave you.”

Pippa pushes herself up suddenly on one hand. “You used my maglet?”

Hecate nods, blushing.

“And Ada wrote back?”

“Promptly.”

Pippa pauses and then they’re both laughing, bright and happy, and Hecate feels like her heart can’t contain the joy that surges through her.

“Well,” Pippa gasps, once she’s caught her breath. “That confirms that Ada spends her mornings in Mabcock’s bed.”

Hecate blushes.

“Oh,” Pippa blushes too. “And it confirms you spend your mornings in _my_ bed.”

They look at each other, both pink, and Pippa shifts forward.

“Hecate.”

They’re nose to nose now and Hecate swallows.

“Pippa.”

“Everything is different now,” Pippa whispers, lips inches from Hecate’s own.

Sunlight streaks across the bed in sharp, dazzling rays and Hecate feels herself grow warm.

“No, nothing has changed.”

Pippa looks confused.

“I’m yours,” Hecate whispers against Pippa’s lips. “That hasn't changed. I’ve always been yours.”

And Hecate can feel Pippa smile as they kiss.

______

“You’re leaving?” Around them there’s a flurry of activity as Corporal Wright and Sergeant Andrews move about with purpose, pulling maps off the wall, packing up the typewriters and boxing up files.

Pippa pulls her cardigan tightly around her and Mabcock sighs.

“Mission's over. At least for here. Operations Hades isn’t viable without our Queen of Hell. We’ll consolidate with another unit. See if we can progress in our research.”

Hecate can tell Pippa is fighting back tears.

“I let you down.”

“No.” Mabcock’s hands are suddenly on Pippa’s shoulders, firm and assuring. “You have so much to be proud of. And so much life to look forward to.” Her eyes slide to Hecate and Hecate shifts uncomfortably at the implication. “Your country might not know what you’ve done, Pippa Pentangle, but you are a hero. And many lives are owed to you. Never forget what you’ve done or what you gave to save others. I for one, surely won’t.”

Beside her, Corporal Wright finishes packing a crate and steps forward. “I shan’t either.”

“Nor I.” Sergeant Andrews steps in and hugs Pippa tightly, followed by Wright.

Pippa hugs back, fingers curling tightly against their backs. She wipes at her eyes and both women nod at her solemnly.

“Honored to have served with you,” Wright murmurs, her own eyes bright, and Andrews nods. They salute Pippa and then turn as a unit, collecting the final boxes and disappearing through the door.

Pippa watches them go, and jumps a little when Mabcock steps in and offers out a hand. “An honor,” she echoes, and Pippa smiles through her tears as Mabcock takes her hand and shakes it. They look at each other for a moment and Mabcock turns, salutes Pippa before turning and saluting Hecate as well. “Well met to you both. May your cauldrons be full and your broomsticks steady.”

With a last nod, she turns on her heel and is gone.

Pippa lets out a long, slow, breath and looks around the nearly empty room, wiping her eyes.

“It’s over.”

“It is.”

“Well then.” Pippa closes her eyes and Hecate hears a creaking through out the mansion. Beneath them the taupe room and cracked tile fades and suddenly they’re back in the library. The contraption Julie and Pippa created together sits silent in the middle of the room, and Pippa looks at it sadly.

Slowly, she lets out a long, trembling sigh, tension leaving her body.

“That’s a relief to undo.”

Hecate stares at her. “You were generating the spell the entire time?”

Pippa moves in an slips into her arms, head against her shoulder. “There’s no Founding Stone here. They took it after Broomhead. So I had nothing to tether it to”

“Pippa - that’s - that - _exhausting_.”

She feels Pippa shrug against her. “I gave everything I had to the Operation. There didn’t seem much point in reserving my energy. I didn’t hope to - “

Breaking off Pippa shivers and Hecate pulls her back to stare at her. “To?”

“Live long.” Pippa shrugs, her eyes dropping. “I almost died in the first war. I lived years underground, frightened because of my magic. When this war came I was almost -” she looks ashamed, “- relieved. I thought it would be my time to go. That it would all be over and I would be -”

“Free,” Hecate whispers.

Pippa takes a shaking inhale. “Yes.”

Pulling her in Hecate rests her chin on the top of Pippa’s head.

“Happy birthday,” she whispers, and Pippa looks up at her confused.

“Ostara’s not for another month -”

Hecate shakes her head. “Your parents chose that date. You shouldn’t have to share your day with a holiday. You should get to have a day that honors your birth.” She touches Pippa’s cheek. “And your rebirth.”

Pippa cups Hecate’s face, eyes searching, bright with tears. “Hecate - ?”

“Happy Birthday,” Hecate whispers again.

And Pippa gasps, arms tugging Hecate in, laughing against her shoulder as she cries.

______

They ascend the stairs back into the school and join the other teachers in the yard, watching as Operation Hades loads up a battered old army van.

Ada stands a ways apart. Hands folded in front of her, eyes red, and Hecate leaves Pippa with Dimity and Julie and approaches her hesitantly.

“Oh, Miss Hardbroom.” She says and dabs surreptitiously at her eyes. 

“Ada.”

They carefully avoid looking at each other, instead watching as Corporal Wright swings the back gate of van forward and it closes with a crunch. She crosses and disappears around the side and the sound of a door closing soon follows.

Hecate tracks Ada’s gaze to the front side window where Mabcock sits looking steadily out the dash. Her posture is stiff, her cap placed on her head with exacting precision. 

The vehicle begins to crawl forward, Andrews behind the wheel, and at the last moment Mabcock turns her head, eyes finding Adas.

There’s regret there, and guilt, before she looks away, and Ada makes a small noise beside Hecate as the van trundles away down the drive.

It is lost from view and Ada makes the sound again.

“I’m sorry.”

It comes out softly, quietly, as stands stiffly beside Ada, unsure if she should intrude on Ada’s private grief. Ada shakes her head, clearly strugglingly to collect herself.

“No matter,” she says, voice thick. She clears her throat, but is unable to successfully banish the waver from her voice. “All is fair in love and war.” Smiling up at her ruefully, Ada sighs, eyes wet. “Shall we?” 

She moves back towards the other teachers who are standing in a huddle on the steps, and Hecate slowly follows.

“Oh, dear,” Miss Bat fusses, stepping forward and squeezing Ada’s arm.

“They’ll be missed,” Dimity sighs, Bessie and Aggie were dab hands at poker.”

Hecate blinks. “ _Who_?”

“Wright and Andrews,” Pippa laughs, but her eyes are also rather red.

Miss Bat pats Ada on the arm again. “I suppose we better start thinking of additional defenses.”

Blinking, Ada looks at her.

“The wards,” Algernon reminds them. “The night we arrived they were strong. We thought it strange.”

“The wards came with the Operation, not the castle,” Hecate mutters in sick realization. “We’re much less defended now.”

“And Mabcock was a security against an attack by my sister.”

Ada closes her eyes and sways a little.

“There now,” Miss Bat murmurs, looking startled. “An nice cup of tea. Maybe a splash from Dimity’s stash -”

“On it,” Dimity twinkles, and gestures them through the castle doors. “I propose a staff meeting.”

“With lots of whiskey.” Miss Bat amends.

Julie laughs.

“We should plan -” Hecate tries, aghast. “We should prepare -”

But Ada shakes her head, eyes sliding back to the drive as if hoping to see the van reappear. It doesn't and she looks forward again determinedly. 

“It’s been a tough year, Hecate. Whiskey, tea, and a night amongst good friends will make us all stronger in the morning. Merlin knows you’ve earned a night off."

Julie nods directing them up the entrance stairwell and shepherding them all into the staff room. "Besides, Pippa's just let slip that it's her birthday. Shouldn't we celebrate?"

Hecate eyes finds Pippa’s and she blushes happily.

“Quite.”

“Quite,” Ada repeats and squeezes Hecate's arm.

“Now. Dimity. Where’s that bottle?


	18. Chapter XVIII: From the Ashes, We Rise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Miss Hardbroom -”
> 
> “You girls should be on the bus -” she scolds, sharp terror making her lungs cramp.
> 
> “But Miss Hardbroom - ”
> 
> “There’s someone here and it’s not Miss Cackle - ”
> 
> “Not Miss Cackle - ?”
> 
> “Look,” Mildred cries and points.
> 
> On the landing above, a witch stands, shadows playing around her face as the flicker from Hecate’s magic orb casts her in eerie half-light. Her hair is just as Ada’s is, though cut more bluntly, her eyes colder, her mouth a painted slash.
> 
> “Hecate Hardbroom.” The witch says in a singsong baby voice, stepping down the stairs slowly, eyes fixed hungrily on Hecate’s face.
> 
> Instinctually, Hecate angles her body, moving so the girls are behind her.
> 
> “Agatha.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh. oh, it's really almost over. idk how many people are actually even reading this fic, but it's my first actual novel length piece - just over the word count of the first Harry Potter! So to those of you who are reading, especially those who have sent such lovely, amazing, wonderful comments, thanks you so much for all the support. it has kept me going through a very dark time. 
> 
> i could literally talk about this story forever. it really has a special place in my heart. thanks for coming on the ride. 
> 
> xoxoxoxo

**Nightstx Hall, 1941**

Hecate falls asleep that night, arms around Pippa, nose buried in her hair.

Pippa had taken her home, taken her to bed. They’d moved together as one, bodies twining in the soft sheets, their lovemaking made slow and languid from sips of whiskey and they long, heavy gazes they'd shared throughout the evening as the Cackle’s teachers chatted and made merry around them. And Hecate’s never felt so at peace, felt so right, as she does when she blinks awake sleepily in the dark, Pippa’s limbs still tangled in her own, her naked skin warm wherever they press together.

Hecate wants to roll her over, wake her up. Wants to make up for all the lost time, and late nights, and years where she felt certain Pippa lay cold and dead in a lonely, long forgotten grave.

But here she is. Alive.

 _Alive_.

And in her arms.

Hecate lets her eyes slip closed, pulls Pippa more tightly to her and breathes her in. She’s nearly back asleep when she realizes why she awoke in the first place.

There’s a buzzing.

Faint and in the distance. A long forgotten sound.

But she recognizes it all too well - recognizes the low, rattling hum - recognizes what it mean, even as it grows closer still.

Cold fear flashes through her and she pushes herself upright, hand on Pippa’s shoulder.

“Pippa.”

Pippa sighs in her sleep.

“Pippa wake up.”

It must be the fear that hangs thickly in her voice, because Pippa awakens with a start, sitting up, suddenly completely conscious.

“Hecate - ?”

“Luftwaffe.”

Pippa stills and then her eyes go wide as the sound in the distance registers.

They’re up and dressed in an instant, moving across the darkened room and through the door together as Hecate does up her hair.

“How did they find us - ? And so fast - ?” Pippa gasps.

“The wards,” Hecate shakes her head. “They must have been waiting. Waiting for something to weaken. I thought we have more time - but -”

She breaks off as they take the stairs two at a time, reaching the landing. “I’ll wake Ada and collect the girls - “

“I’ll organize defenses with other teachers - and have Dimity bring the bus around - ”

They look at each other in the dark and move together as one, limbs tangling together as they kiss each other swiftly, desperately.

“Go, go -” Hecate urges, and Pippa pushes herself away, turning and taking off down the corridor towards the teacher’s wing.

Hecate tries not to watch her. Tries not to imagine that it might be the last time she sees her.

Can’t bear to think of a world in which it might.

She turns and transfers, ready to knock on Ada’s door, but there’s movement within and Ada opens it, already dressed.

“Luftwaffe.”

Hecate nods.

“I thought we’d have more time.”

They look at each other solemnly and Hecate conjures a small dim ball of light, masking it in the same spells she’d used at Cackle’s.

“The girls,” She gasps.

Ada nods, “Quickly now.”

They set off together, casting spells down each hallway, spells that rap urgently at doors and pull sleepy girls from slumber.

“Pippa’s gone for the others - Dimity’s gone for the bus.”

“Good. Good.” Ada murmurs, hands moving in an intricate pattern until her voice is amplified an can reach all corners of the school.  
  
“Hello, girls, this is Ms. Cackle. I regret to inform you that the castle will soon be under attack. Please form a tidy line in your hallway. Year Heads, please count each girl and send a Summoning Charm for myself or Miss Hardbroom if any girl is missing. Once your house is assembled, proceed in an orderly fashion to the entrance where you will board the bus. Time is of the essence and we must all act with calm minds and utmost haste.”

Ada ends the charm and breathes out heavily. “They’re close now. She will be here soon.”

Hecate lays a hand on Ada’s arm. “Ada -”

“No matter what comes, we must protect the girls. I fear that one of us will go out tonight - Agatha, or myself.”

“You mustn’t think like that. You must be strong -”

Ada shakes her head. “Look after the girls, Hecate. Look after them. Should I -”

She falters and Hecate grips her arm more fiercely. “You are my friend. And I will stand with you. Until the end.”

Ada gazes at her. “Until the end.”

“Come what may or Hell to pay,” Pippa says, coming up behind them. She looks determined, spine straight and eyes blazing.

“Never a time like the present to leap - ribbit - into action.” Algernon flanks her, bushy beard quivering aquiver.

Miss Bat appears next to him. “I may be old, but I’m far from batty.” She rolls up her sleeves and Hecate can see magic sparkling along her skin.

“Julie’s gone to help Dimity with the girls. We were unsure if we should load the bus or wait to see if we needed a full evaluation.” Pippa informs them.

“Good - then we need to set about on the defenses. Gwen, Algernon, the west wing -” Ada directs. “Miss Pentangle, you and Hecate -”

Hecate doesn’t hear the rest, suddenly she finds herself moving through the halls in hyper-speed, spurred along by and well cast spell. She comes to a spot and reels slightly in front of a terrified looking Maud Spellbody.

“Miss Hardbroom - Miss Hardbroom - it’s Mildred. She’s not in her room and we weren’t sure what to do -”

“Maybe she’s with her mum -” End tries, through she looks nearly as frightened.

“We thought we should summon you - Miss Cackle said - ”

“You did well, girls.” Hecate assume them, heart hammering. She forces herself to steady. “Now, Maud, the second years need you. If everyone else is accounted for, lead them down into the entrance, just as Miss Cackle said. You too, Enid.”

But Enid stops clutching at Maud and clutches at Hecate instead. “Please don’t make me go - Maud can help the other girls, but Mildred, I need to - I please let me come with you -”

Enid’s hands are clammy against Hecate’s skin, her eyes wide and fearful.

“This isn’t any place for a school girl to wander -”

“I know Mildred, I can help -”

And she sounds so like Pippa that Hecate sighs. She turns to Maud. “Be brave now. Remember all you have learned. The girls will look to you now.”

Maud nods and throws her arms around Enid. “Good luck. You’ll find her.”

“Good luck, Maud.”

They part and Maud moves down the hall, shuffling the girls along and counting them as she organizes a neat line.

Looking down, Hecate realizes Enid’s hand has found its way into her own. It makes her heart feel funny, but she doesn’t let go.

“Transferring,” She mutters and Enid nods.

They wink out together.

When they land, it’s in the entrance, where girls are standing queued up in lines as Julie and Dimity count and recount them. Above the planes grow louder.

Mildred is not in sight.

Noticing them, Julie rushes over. “The planes, they’re close. They’ll begin soon.” As if on schedule, there’s _whoop_ and a _whump_ in the distance and the castle walls shake. The girls scream but hold their lines.

“Mildred,” Hecate gasps. “Is she not with you?”

“Aye,” Julie nods and points to where Mildred kneeling between a crying Sybil and a tense looking Beatrice. She’s nearly their height on her knees, which accounts for Hecate missing her, and she appears to be speaking soothingly to the girls in turn. She makes Sybil laugh tearfully and Hecate let’s out a breath.

“Go and assist Mildred Hubble,” she says, and can’t help her hand from squeezing Enid’s, though her brain certainly resists her performing such a motion.

Enid nods and scurries off, and Hecate breathes more easily.

There’s another _whump_ and the whole castle shivers, dust and debris raining down upon them.

“A direct hit -” Ada’s voice comes from on high, magnified and clear. “Miss Drill - see the girls to the bus. Nightstyx is evacuating.”

Dimity moves into action, and the hall begins to empty as another bomb falls, the planes now impossibly loud.

Hecate whirls around, casting a Locator Spell, but it fizzles out and she frowns, trying as again to pinpoint where Ada and Pippa might be within the castle. Turning again on the spot, she comes face to face with Mildred, Maud and Enid.

“Miss Hardbroom -”

“You girls should be on the bus -” she scolds, sharp terror making her lungs cramp.

“But Miss Hardbroom - ”

“There’s someone here and it’s not Miss Cackle - ”

“Not Miss Cackle  - ?”

“Look,” Mildred cries and points.

On the landing above, a witch stands, shadows playing around her face as the flicker from Hecate’s magic orb casts her in eerie half-light. Her hair is just as Ada’s is, though cut more bluntly, her eyes colder, her mouth a painted slash.

“Hecate Hardbroom.” The witch says in a singsong baby voice, stepping down the stairs slowly, eyes fixed hungrily on Hecate’s face.

Instinctually, Hecate angles her body, moving so the girls are behind her.

“Agatha.”

She hears Maud gasp.

“How sweet. You think you’re brave enough to protect them. But I’ve heard a rumor. A rumor of a little non-magical girl you have been hiding amongst you. How terribly dreadful. A witch such as yourself, flaunting The Code, dirtying our bloodlines. But then you always had a thing for those with impure blood. You see, I know about Pippa Pentangle. I know her secret. I know your secrets too.”

Agatha laughs at Hecate’s look of shock and surprise.

“Spent some time in Cajimark myself. Had a _most_ interesting cellmate. Oh, I know _all_ about you Hecate Hardbroom.”

Agatha’s teeth glint as she smiles and she reaches the bottom of the stairs. Her eyes are cold in the dim light and Hecate can see how small her pupils are, pricks within her hard blue eyes.

The same as Broomhead's, and her knees nearly give way. She staggers, but strong hands catch her and hold her upright.

“That’s my daughter you’re talking about,” Julie says quietly, staring Agatha down, hands stabilizing Hecate from behind. “Came back in here for her and find you here, saying that she’s dirty? Well, I know dirty when I see it. And I’m looking right at it.”

She glares, though Agatha just laughs.

“Another non-magic. How pathetic. My sister really has stooped so low -”

Hecate tenses, a spell readying at her fingertips as Agatha moves closer still.

Julie leans in close and whispers. “Told Dimity to get a move on, to go ahead. She’s hitting the road. I gave her a radio. Have one with the same frequency. She’ll be in touch.” Hecate straightens, nodding slightly, moving so Julie is more or less behind her too.

Another bomb, and they stagger sideways with the force it.

A fire must start up outside because suddenly the night sky through the glass in the windows high above them is streaked with a flickering, fiery orange.  

Agatha laughs again.

“Perhaps, I show you what is done to those who cross the Reich. Who tolerate impurity of any kind -”

Her hand comes down in a slash, just as another spell hits her from behind, knocking her sideway.

Agatha shrieks, and Ada appears at the top of the stairs, Pippa, Miss Bat and Algernon behind her, eyes blazing.

“Sister,” Agatha hisses, recovering herself. “How pleasant to see you.”

“I wish I could say the same,” Ada says cooly, hands at the ready. “Four of us, against one of you. Your odds aren’t good, I’m afraid, Sister.”

But Agatha laughs again, the noise harsh, and Hecate feels her skin rise up in goosebumps.

“Oh, Ada. You always were a fool. Did you think I came alone?”

With a wave of her hand, the room fills suddenly, black and red cloaked figures appearing, circling Hecate where she stands with Julie and the children, trapped, lining the landing behind Pippa and the other teachers, boxing them in.

Ada cries out and Hecate’s eyes find Pippa’s.

 _I love you_.

Pippa’s eyes say just as much and Hecate watches as her fingers curl against her dress.

They nod at each other.

“Now!” Pippa shouts, and Hecate releases her own spell, lets is rattle around the room, stunning as many figures as she can reach. Pippa’s takes out some of the figures behind her, and they fall to the floor, cut down by her spell.

And suddenly Pippa’s fighting her way down the steps with Ada and the others at her sides, magic pouring out of them as they throw spell after spell at the hooded figures.

“Run,” Hecate hisses to Julie and the children, gesturing them to the basement door which stands unblocked. “Don’t come out until one of use comes for you - ”

“But Miss Hardbroom - "

“No, buts Mildred Hubble. Do as I say. And look after your mother.”

Mildred ducks a nod, plaits flapping. They start for the door and Hecate stifles a cry as a large, hooded man comes at them from the side.

But the girls cast as a unit, waving their hands reflexively until the man is suddenly tumbling to the floor, rolling about in the form of hundred of thousands of acorns.

Another figure starts towards them, slips and goes down hard. The girls skirt him, Mildred tugging Julie carefully forward, and Hecate doesn’t breath again until the door shuts behind them. Breathing out a Concealment Charm, she watches as the door fades into stone and turns her attention back to the fray.

Ada and Agatha are battling furiously, Pippa has three figure around her but is holding her own. Hecate longs to go to her, but heads for Rowan Webb instead who is backed into the stairwell, cornered by a good half dozen. She uses her magic to plow any figure that comes for her well out of the way, dispassionately watching them fly through the air like rag dolls. She channels her rage into each spell, each bitter, heartbroken emotion that has plagued her since childhood, since Broomhead.

She fights filled with rage that she’s had so little time with Pippa. Determined that the war will not take her from her now. Not again. Not after everything.

She knocks down several of Rowan Webb's tormentors, but Miss Bat cuts in, gnarly hands moving through the air like lightning, gray curls tumbling down around her as she casts. “Go, Ada - help her -” She gasps, performing a tricky spell that has one of the assailants falling to the floor and clutching at her face as she transforms into a larger than life hairpin.

“ _Go -_ ”

Whirling around, Hecate turns and finds that Pippa’s now down to two attackers, a new assailant is coming up on Ada’s flank as she battles her sister.

Hecate transfers forward, her spell hitting the attacker as soon as she lands, but has to duck as her spell rebounds and the figure rounds on her and comes for her instead.

They’re fighting furiously now. Spells lighting up the hall in greens, and blues, and ugly reds.  Pippa cries out as a spell catches her shoulder, and Hecate’s voice echoes her, watching as blood stains Pippa’s dress.

“Pippa - !”

“I’m alright - Hecate - on your left - !”

Hecate dodges just in time, fighting for focus as her attacker bears down on her.

Her distraction has cost her the upper and she loses herself in simply trying to volley away the spells, ducking and dodging as she’s forced into the defensive.

There’s a noise near the base of the stairs and she sees that Agatha has Ada pinned, their nose inches apart. Their faces are identical mirrors, aside from the hatred on Agatha’s, and the fear upon Ada’s.

“Ada -” Hecate gasps, knowing already that it’s too late. That Ada is lost. “Ada - !”

She hits her attacker with a mighty blow, but it’s not enough, and she falls to a crouch as the woman she’s fighting sends an equally powerful spell back at her.

Agatha’s voice is growing loud. A terrible, terrible string of words. A spell all too familiar, all to -

“No - !” Hecate sobs, throwing her hands forward, her anguish causing her own spell to weaken as if the mere memory of Agatha’s chant is depleting her own magic. " _No_.”

Agatha’s glowing brightly, her hands raising as Ada shivers at her feet and Hecate charges at her attacker, throwing out one last spelling desperation before all is lost.

She’s blinded by a light, and there’s a ringing in her ears. Staggering, she shakes her suddenly aching head. Vaguely, she realizes that another bomb must have fallen, quite near she supposes, given how there’s suddenly no longer a roof, and there’s dirt, and dust, and stone littering the floor.

Pippa’s standing in the clearing smoke, eyes on the doorway, mouth parted in surprise. And Hecate has no time to feel grateful for Pippa’s survival. For the full extent of her gratitude is focused instead on the furious form of Major-General Mabcock who stands framed in the smoky ruins of the doorway, anger across her features, magic crackling in her palms.

Her spell is like a bomb itself, erupting from her and slamming into Agatha, sending her flying.  

She advances, stream of magic never letting up, until she has Agatha pinned to what’s left of the wall, eyes burning in the darkness as Agatha twitches, bound within her magical fury.

Hecate jerks back into action, wincing when she finds that her attacker now lies before her, crushed by debris. She starts towards Pippa instead, magic wrapping like a lasso against one of the Pippa’s assailants until she can draw her away from Pippa and into direct combat.

From her captivity, Agatha chokes out something, and suddenly there are more figures, nearly twice that as of before, and Pippa cries out, ducking as a spell whizzes over her head. Hecate doges it as well, fighting her way over so she and Pippa are back to back, mimicking Miss Bat and Rowan Webb where they continue to fight by the basement door.

“We’re outnumbered,” Pippa chokes out. “There’s too many of them.”

“They’ve got you surrounded,” Mabcock calls, fighting Agatha where she’s begun to struggle against her bonds. “I only just got in, didn’t think I’d make it.”

“So there’s no way out?” Hecate gasps, eyes darting to where Ada is trying to pull herself up on the banister, body trembling. She throws a spell out to wrap a shield around her, and another to trip up the would be attack moving towards her.

Pippa pulls Hecate down as a spell zips by them.

“What do we do if there’s no way out?” Miss Bat pants, her movements getting slower, and Hecate swallows down hot fear.

“The Basement,” Pippa gasps. “I think we can get out through the basement.”

“How - ?”

“Trust me. Just trust me - ”

“I do,” Hecate gasps, pulling Pippa’s head down as a silver jet of light shoots over them.

Suddenly Pippa is urging Hecate up, tugging her through the rubble, ducking spells as they make for the basement door. “Everyone, follow me!” She cries and Miss Bat and Rowan Web begin to fight their way over.

“Ada -”

“I got her,” Mabcock calls. “And we’re taking this one with us.” She loops magic around Agatha and pulls her through the air in her wake. “Hostage if this plan goes wrong. Justice if we make a break. She can go back to Cajimark.”

She moves to Ada’s side and loops her arm around her neck, helping her up and through the rubble.

“We need a diversion.” Hecate shouts, heart thumping wildly.

“Let us.” Miss Bat pulls her wand from behind her ear, and Rowan Web tugs on his beard.

Suddenly the hall is filled with the flapping wings of bats and the leaping, ribbiting chaos of thousands of frogs. The attackers dodge and duck, startled, and Hecate throws the door open, pushing everyone through as there’s an explosion in the hall behind them. The door shuts and Hecate seals it with the same spell Ada had used on Broomhead’s office.

“Keep moving she hisses,” and pushes at their backs, urging them down the steps as she recasts her light charm. It’s slow going, and only now does she realize that her side aches and her hairline is damp with blood. Mabcock support Ada, moving gingerly down the basement steps.

They get to the bottom and Hecate sucks in a sigh of relief, then jumps as Mildred Hubble’s arms are suddenly around her waist, clinging tightly. She looks up, startled, and finds Enid clinging to Pippa just the same, while Maud casts a charm to produce a damp cloth which she hands to Mabcock for Ada’s sweaty forehead.

“You’re alright,” Julie whispers, eyes sweeping around at the lot of them. In the glow from the magical wall, Hecate can see how pale she is, and she haltingly pats Mildred atop the head.

“Release me, Mildred Hubble, I fear we are not safe yet.”

Mildred pulls away and wipes at her eyes. “I’m just glad you’re all okay,” she smiles.

“Let’s go, Enid,” Pippa takes the girls hand and leads her towards the light.

They move through the warm glow and Mabcock eases Ada down onto the settee once they cross over into the library. Kneeling beside her she wipes at Ada’s gray face with Maud’s cloth.

“I shouldn't have left.” She doesn’t sound like herself at all. “Got halfway to our new HQ and realized that our leaving meant your wards would be crippled. Sent Sargent Wright and Corporal Andrews on ahead. Came back as fast as I could.”

“You’re here. You came back,” Ada whispers, and Hecate turns away to give them privacy.

Across the room Julie and Mildred are examining the machine Julie’s built and Pippa crosses over, sighs.

“Never quite finished, did we?”

“Nope,” Julie pokes at a button and the machine blinks on, beeping sadly. “There, there, little robot, we tried.”

“Mum,” Mildred laughs. “It’s just a bit of metal.”

“Oh, I know.”

“Only one way out now,” Rowan Webb tugs on his beard and squints around the room at the glowing crack in the wall. “Unless there’s not, and we’re trapped.”

Pippa shakes her head. “We're not really _in a basement_.”

The room goes quiet and they all look at her.

“Well, we are. But we’re not. We’re in my parents house. Which is outside London. But we are also here, in this basement.”

Miss Bat sinks into a chair and pinches her nose. “In plain terms, dear, I really do have quite a headache.”

There’s an explosion from above, and the room rattles.

“They’re at the door,” Hecate says tersely. “We don’t have long.”

“Well,” Pippa sighs looking around the room. “As we’re not _just here_ ,we might not be here at all. We could be in Hertfordshire.”

“Pippa,” Hecate frowns. “Of course we’re _here_.”

“Perhaps. But I’m banking on us being able to transport with the house to a location miles and miles away.”

“But that kind of magic -”

Pippa shrugs. “We stay here and get caught. Or we try. What other choice do we have.”

“Well when you put it like that,” Miss Bat frets.

“I trust, Pippa,” Hecate states moving towards her side. “With my life.”

Julie straightens from where she’s been poking around with the machine. “As do I.”

“Me too,” Mildred pipes up.

“And me.”

“And me.”

Maud and Enid link arms, looking at Pippa seriously.

“If Hecate trusts her,” Ada’s voice comes weakly from the settee, “then I would be foolish not to.”

“Best instincts of any witch I’ve ever known,” Mabcock agrees, hand in Ada’s.

“Then we do, too,” Rowan Web agrees, and takes Miss Bat’s hand.

Miss Bat nods. “Let’s see this modern magic then.”

Pippa ducks her head and begins to work the spell silently, hands moving in counter and counter clockwise directions. She closes her eyes and focuses, beads of sweat appearing on her forehead as the room begins to shiver around her.

Hecate can feel she spell building, growing stronger. The air feels hot and thick and she watches as Pippa’s body strains under the weight of the spell, swaying slightly until Pippa nearly topples over. Hecate catches her arms, holding her upright.

“I believe in you, Pipsqueak,” she whispers.

Pippa shakes her head. “I’m not strong enough,” she sounds frightened, and above them there’s another blast.

“You are.”

But Pippa whimpers, and Hecate swallows, fearful that they haven’t enough time, fearful of what such a spell might to do Pippa.

“I’m right here,” she breathes, and let’s her fingers tangle with Pippa’s own as they stand toe to toe.

She finds she doesn’t care who’s watching, instead focuses all of her energy on Pippa. “You can.”

The spell begins to build again, hot and pulsing, filling the space and there’s ringing sound as it reaches near-peak.

“Hecate - I can’t - I -”

Hecate leans in and capture’s Pippa’s mouth with her own, pushing her own magic into her. She can feel the spell thrumming between them, complex and draining, stretching through her lungs, pulling at her bones. It pushes the spell to greater capacity, but it’s still not enough, and Pippa gasps into her mouth as Hecate deepens the kiss, feeding her more magic as her hands move up to cup Pippa’s face.

Pippa reaches out to steady them as they sway together, her hand falling on Julie’s machine.

There’s sound like a sparkler going off, and suddenly everything around them is a bright, hot white, then shocked through with silver, then with an array of greens, and blues, and finally warm and jewel-toned amber.

Hecate feels them falling through the air as the room deconstructs around them, and they’re suddenly moving through space, perhaps through time - _time_ \- and she smiles into the kiss, pulling Pippa closer.

But they pop into being in midair, and in an instant Hecate knows there’s something amiss. The stones and wood float around them, as though half blown apart, as though unable to come fully back together. She twists in the air with a shout, hand still in Pippa’s. But her magic is near exhausted and she watches helplessly as they all fall through the air, stones threatening to smash them flat.

Suddenly there’s another shiver cutting through the night, and the stones change course, pushed away from them by magic to a safe distance. And Hecate see’s Maud, Enid, and Mildred in midair, hands clasped as their Reconstruction Spell wraps around the masonry. It’s not strong enough to rebuilt the mansion, but is enough to move the stone off course. And Hecate thrusts out the last bit of her magic to break everyone’s fall as they tumble to the soft ground of a dark and overgrown garden.

“Woah,” Enid mumbles, as a bright light splits the night in two.

The Pentangle manor, now a heap of stones and rubble, flickers amongst hot and pungent flames that lick the at ruins with an acrid tongue.

Hecate pushes herself up on one elbow and stares in horror.

“Pippa,” she gasps.

Beside her Pippa stirs feebly. “Is everyone alright?”

“What - I - “ Hecate frantically looks around. Enid, and Mildred, and Maud are on their feet, staring at the flames with a mixture of horror and awe, and Mildred turns suddenly and throws her arms around her mother who holds her tight, clearly shaken.

Rowan Webb and Miss Bat also have their arms around each other, sitting on the earth, looking up at the sky and at the flames.

“Oh, I think I’m getting too old for such adventures.”

“Nonsense, my dear. You’re just as spry as ever.” Rowan Webb tucks her wand back behind her ear and they smile at each other.

Just beyond that, Mabcock has Ada in tucked against her chest and is whispering to her. Ada nods weakly, and Hecate breathes again at the sight of Agatha floating helplessly above them, still suspended in Mabcock’s glowing spell.

“Yes,” Hecate breathes, eyes back on Pippa who is struggling to sit upright. Hecate catches her arm and pulls her in against her. “We we’re all alright.”

“Thank Merlin.” Pippa slumps against her and Hecate feels sticky blood under her fingertips where they wrap around Pippa’s shoulder.

“Pipsqueak. You’re injured.”

“So are you.” Pippa touches her hairline. “Are you alright?”

“I am.”

“Julie’s machine. It - ?”

“Worked,” Julie says brightly, and grins from over Mildred’s shoulder. “Would you look at that. A conduit of energy and magic? Did the trick - though I am surprised it was up to it. Not stable though, and that’s a fact. Seems to have obliterated your mansion, Miss Witch. Apologies, for that.” She grimaces and Mildred laughs in shaky relief and clings more tightly.

Pippa looks up and Hecate can see the flames reflected in her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she whispers and sounds terribly sad.

“Sorry, whatever for?”

A tear rolls down Pippa’s cheek. “I promised you the library.”

And Hecate can’t help the laugh that breaks from her at that, though she sobers quickly. “Is that all? Pippa, you just lost your _home_.”

But Pippa shakes her head.

“No. I didn’t.”

She takes Hecate’s hand, eyes not leaving her own and kisses it. “My home isn’t a place. It’s wherever you are. It always has been. It always will be.”

Tears suddenly in her eyes, Hecate sucks in a breath of acrid, smokey air. “Pippa -”

“And besides, I suppose it is just books. They can be replaced. You can’t be. I know that, I’ve always known that.” She reaches up and touches Hecate’s cheek. “Any library I want, I want to build with you. Any home I want, I want to build with you.”

“A home,” Hecate whispers, filled with wonder.

“A home.”

They sit together, amongst the falling embers and pale, white ash.

Mouths meeting, hearts glowing.

Two phoenixes in the dark.


	19. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I believe you called me an _‘an unscrupulous seducer of women’_ and threatened to hex me if I so much as dared break Julie Hubble’s heart.”
> 
> Hecate presses her lips together. “Well, you had quite the reputation.”
> 
> “I know, I know.” Cocking her head Dimity looks over at her before her eyes slide back down and she waves enthusiastically at Julie below, who blows her a kiss. Dimity catches it and sends a bouquet tumbling through the air to appear in Julie’s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is it. this is the end. idk if i'm allow to say that im proud of this, but i am really proud of this story. it's brought me so much happiness to write, even though it's been a logistical monster and i think it's different than anything i've tried to write before in terms of plot etc. i can only hope that you all have enjoyed reading as much as i've enjoyed writing. i'm really emotional right now. it's pretty dang hard to say goodbye.

**Cackle’s Academy, 1946. Graduation Day.**

The breeze is cool against her skin as Hecate Hardbroom looks out across the Cackle’s grounds at the families milling around below. She closes her eyes for a moment and lets the morning air brush against her face, a small smile playing at the edges of her mouth as she listens to the happy babble and shrieking laughs that echo up from the lawn.

“So this is what peace looks like,” Dimity smiles, joining her on the parapet.

“It certainly was. Before you arrived.”

There’s no bite to it and Dimity laughs, resting her forearms on the castle wall as she joins her and looks out as well. A battered old automobile slowly crawls to a stop at the lawn’s edge and a bevy of small children pile out, dressed in an assortment of mismatched pinafores and well-patched overalls.

“Mum! Mum!” They holler, waving up at the castle tower, hair tousling in the wind.

There’s more of them then Hecate can count and she huffs at Dimity good-naturedly. “Miss Drill, I dare say the Pentangle’s School for Children won’t have anyone left if you and Julie Hubble keep adopting them all.”

Dimity laughs and waves down at the children who are now helping Julie unload the vehicle. A few more traipse out from the school and run to hug Julie, followed by a tall and laughing Mildred Hubble who throws her arms around her mothers neck, graduation robes flapping in the breeze. Her hat gets knocked askew as her younger siblings tackle her nearly to the ground, all jostling for affection, all happy.

Hecate sniffs. And Dimity smiles at her knowingly.

“Remember how you cornered me - when we were all just back at Cackle’s after the evaluation of Nightstyx? We’d hardly gotten the castle wards reset and checked to make sure Agatha’s time here hadn’t left anything too nasty behind to surprise us. You found Julie and I - _well_ \- "

“Snogging?”

“Yes.” Dimity grins and laughs as Mildred picks up a tiny set of twins and tucks them under each arm, setting off for the entrance of the castle as they giggle and squirm. “I believe you called me an _‘an unscrupulous seducer of women’_ and threatened to hex me if I so much as dared break Julie Hubble’s heart.”

Hecate presses her lips together. “Well, you had quite the reputation.”

“I know, I know.” Cocking her head Dimity looks over at her before her eyes slide back down and she waves enthusiastically at Julie below, who blows her a kiss. Dimity catches it and sends a bouquet tumbling through the air to appear in Julie’s arms. Catching it and laughing, Julie blows another kiss Dimity’s way. “I was ready to settle down though,” she admits, and sneaks a look at Hecate again. “I’d seen how you were with Pippa. Even though you insisted you were _‘only just friends_ ’ which was a real laugh. But I realized that I wanted that.”

Hecate opens her mouth Dimity doesn’t give her a chance.

“I wanted what you two had,” she continues, unusually somber, as she watches her family on the grass below. “Something real. I didn’t think it was possible until I saw the way you were with her. It gave me hope.”

It’s unlike them to have conversation where they’re not ribbing each other, and Hecate blinks a little, warmth and emotion spreading through her.

As if sensing Hecate’s inability to find words, Dimity merely smiles and turns, resting a hip against the wall. “What about you and Pippa now - heard construction is nearly done on the site of the manor. When’s the school opening?”

“We hope to have it open by the fall,” Hecate nods, cheeks pinking as Pippa appears with a pop next to Julie. They laugh and embrace, the bouquet of flowers in Julie’s hand raining petals down over them. The little ones tug at Pippa’s skirt until she crouches down and gives them all hugs in turn. Enid comes dashing across the lawn and Pippa rises to meet her as Enid throws herself into Pippa’s arms. And Pippa happily catches her, spinning her around and around, whispering in her ear until Enid is half laughing, half crying, arms around Pippa’s neck.

Heart warm, Hecate feels herself nearly smiling. “We’ll start with enrollment from the students from the Pentangle’s Home who are school age. And then see if we have interest in expanding.”

“We will miss you here at Cackle’s,” Dimity says softly, and Hecate feels her chest tighten over leaving.

“I assure you, the Major-General is a dab-hand at potions. The post will be well filled.”

Dimity snorts. “And I hear she’s been driving Ada batty, always underfoot. Retirement doesn’t suit her.”

Hecate laughs at that, biting her lip as Pippa catches her eye and smiles up at her, waving. There’s a pop and she suddenly appears between them arm tugging Dimity in for a hug, even as she leans in and swiftly kisses Hecate on the cheek.

“Hello you two, well met. Looks like it’s going to be a beautiful day.”

“Indeed,” Hecate says blushing in the sunshine, and Pippa grins over at her, tapping her on the nose.

“You two weren’t up here plotting trouble, were you?”

“‘Me?” Dimity intones sweetly. “Certainly not. Though you can never tell with Hardbroom here.”

Hecate flushes and Pippa laughs brightly, and a little wickedly. “Oh, don’t I know it.” Her hand goes to Hecate’s elbow and Hecate, even after all this time, flushes at her touch.

“We were just discussing your new school.”

Pippa nods, eyes bright. “Yes, we’re almost ready.”

“Looking forward to coming for a visit, though I must say, we will miss having Pentangle’s girls. They’re always my best and bravest fliers.”

Pleased, Pippa reaches over and hugs Dimity again. “We’d always appreciate a visit from The Star of the Sky, England’s Finest Flier, whenever you care to come for a workshop.”

Dimity smiles at Hecate over Pippa’s shoulder, winking even as Hecate rolls her eyes.

“And I’m glad so many girls have been welcomed here at Cackle’s over the years - after our return from Nightstyx, Miss Heartsong and I both agreed that we only wanted our girls coming to a school where we were absolutely certain that they would be given the utmost care and opportunity.”

Pippa’s hand is back on her elbow, and Hecate swallows, a lump tight and hard in her throat. Their eyes meet and they share a look, a silent conversations of many difficult nights spent talking through the pain of their own childhoods and planning for a future where the children in their care will know no such fate.

Dimity looks between the two of them but for once doesn’t tease.

“It’s time for peace for all of us now,” she says. “Hard to believe the war is over. Never thought this day would come.”

“It all seems like a terrible dream,” Pippa sighs, and her hand finds it way into Hecate’s.

“Who would believe it all, if we told them.” Dimity laughs, but doesn’t sound happy. “The Great Wizard covering up Agatha’s involvement, and all. At least they locked her away on trumped up charges anyway.”

“All thanks to Mabcock.”

Pippa sighs, and for a moment gets the expression across her face that Hecate has come to realize only appears when Pippa’s working through particularly difficult memories. “They’re all just war stories now.”

“Yes.”

After a moment Dimity sighs and a smile fights its way back across her face.

“I’m going to pop down and say hello to the kids, help Julie with our youngest.”

“Baby Hekate Philippa?” Pippa smiles and Hecate winces.

“Named for the two bravest witches I know,” Dimity’s eyes twinkle. “Though the name is a mouthful. We call her Hippo.”

“You do not.” Hecate gasps, appalled. “The poor child.”

“Oh, the poor, Auntie, I think you mean. She just started speaking and she calls you Hippo, too, you know.”

Hecate purses her lips and Pippa lets out a loud, bright laugh.

“She’s - what -  two now?”

Dimity nods. “Miss Heartsong had no idea who her parents were. Just showed up on your Home’s stoop one day.”

Hecate squeezes Pippa’s hand, and Pippa’s eyes look rather bright.

“She won’t remember the war. She’ll grow up knowing nothing but peace.”

“We’ll make sure of it,” Dimity says, and they all share a look. “No more war.”

“No more war,” Pippa agrees, and kisses Dimity on the cheek. “Now, go find that wife and baby of yours, we’ll be down soon for the ceremony.”

“Don’t take too long,” Dimity smirks, but is gone in a flash before Hecate can sputter out a response.

Pippa turns to her with happy eyes. “And how are you doing?” She murmurs, arm snaking around Hecate’s lower back until she’s tucked against her. “Your last graduating class at Cackle’s.”

They stand together on the parapet, looking down at the school below. Bustling. Busy. Laughing students running here and there, Maud, Mildred, and Enid sprawled together on a picnic blanket, eating real strawberries, cheeks pink, limbs long, smiles happy.

“My finest,” Hecate says, emotion making her words tight.

“Yes,” Pippa says, fingers on Hecate’s wrist, tugging at the bit of fabric tucked up the sleeve there until she pulls the hankie free and hands it to Hecate. It’s well worn after years of service, but Mildred’s embroidery still looks bright against the white of the cloth. Hecate blows her nose.

“I know this is a change for you. That it’s the end of something that was good. Something your built for yourself.” She smiles up at Hecate. “You’re done a beautiful job a Cackle’s. I’m so proud of you. And so please to get to be with you on this day.”

Tucking the hankie back up her sleeve, Hecate manages a rather watery smile. “It does produce a number of emotion, to be sure. But you’re right. I’m leaving something behind that’s good. And I can’t say that about any other place I’ve left in my life.”

“And now you have a place to visit.” Pippa rests her head against Hecate’s shoulder and they wave down at Ada and Mabcock who have appeared on the lawn to conjure up chairs and a stage for the ceremony.

“I have all I could want in a life,” Hecate says somberly. “Hardtangle’s Academy for Witches and Wizards will open in September. We’ll be together as co-heads everyday, none of this back and forth between Cackle’s and Pentangle’s business. I’m marrying the witch I love -”

“You are -?”

Pippa is looking at her, eyes wide.

Hecate hesitates. “Yes. I am. If you are agreeable to it -?”

Staring at her, Pippa blinks several times before breaking into laughter. Hecate finds herself knocked back a few steps as Pippa’s arms go around her neck.

“Marrying me -?” Pippa gasps, looking up into Hecate face with wonder in her voice. “Is that your way of asking?”

“I didn’t realize it was a question.”

Pippa kisses her, deeply, fiercely. “It’s not.”

Hecate finds her fingers on Pippa’s cheek, aware that they can be seen by the whole school should someone look their way, but for the first time, not particularly caring.

“I thought a small ceremony. In August perhaps. Just Ada and Theta. And the girls. And the Hubble-Drill brood.”

Pippa snickers into her neck.

“And Avery,” Hecate traces Pippa’s cheek. “And Wright and Andrews.”

“Did you know Avery and Aggie Andrews are _dating_.

Hecate stares at her. “ _What_.”

“Mmmm,” Pippa says and kisses her again. “Now we just need to find an eligible witch for Bessie. Dimity can probably help with that.”

Hecate groans.

But Pippa rests her fingertips against Hecate’s jaw and gazes up at her.

“Marry me,” she whispers, and Hecate’s heart squeezes with warmth at the words.

Hecate leans in and kisses her, gently, and Pippa deepens the kiss before biting at Hecate’s lower lip suggestively.

Hecate pulls back, body flushing. “Pippa, the children.”

Cheeks rather pink, Pippa laughs happily, and tugs her close again. “It’s alright, they know I have a reputation as being the Queen of Hell. I’m allowed to be a little naughty.”

“Well,” Hecate says, striving for dignity as Pippa tugs her behind a tower wall where they’re hidden from view and begins to plant hot kisses just behind her ear, “I have no such reputation.”

She arches as Pippa finds a particular sensitive spot and Pippa looks up, eyes devilish.

“You’re marrying the Queen of Hell, darling.” She pushes herself up and kisses Hecate’s nose.  “You best get used to it.”


End file.
